Past Recollections
by destiiiny
Summary: A story written in the POV of Hermione Granger. Set in their seventh year. I think this qualifies as AU because I doubt year six happened in this story.
1. Intro & Prologue

**Intro**

The mind is such a complex thing. Incalculable sections of it control many different aspects of our lives. It controls our emotions; every little emotion you feel has to travel through this complicated device before being expressed. But more importantly, it stores our memories. All of our memories; from the small, minuscule, even insignificant memories, to the large, life-changing ones. Most, if not some that get lost along the way, remain in our mind for our entire lives. Sometimes we aren't aware of them, sometimes a certain memory is all our mind can brood over. So many people wish they could forget a specific memory, but what they don't realise, is that every single memory you experience makes you who you are. Whether it be a bad memory or a good one, in some shape or form, this changes us for life because we, if only slightly, change our opinions on things from what has happened. This could be looked at positively or negatively, depending on what a person has experienced. Every person is different because they go through different things from one another throughout their lives. If one life-changing situation occurs, someone may see something or someone in a different light than before, or maybe they have to finally accept that everything changes and nothing every stays the same, however dearly they want it to.

**Prologue** - Fatalism.

I adore Sundays. There is just something about them. From the outside and in, they appear so peaceful and calm, and being the last day of rest before work or school begins, they are people's last chance, per se.

This is not to say I don't like every day of the week individually, but Sunday, Sunday is just. There are no words to explain it. Maybe there is no-one on this entire planet that shares the same view as me, but in a way, I understand that. I have my reasons to love Sundays. And some people have their reasons to [i]hate[/i] Sundays, too. Fair is fair.

Then there is Monday. Monday is the aftermath of a beautiful day and thus, is how it has gained the prize of being the most repulsive day of the week. The quota of luck in a week is filled on a Sunday, so Monday is sure to be the worst day of the entire week, because there isn't even an ounce of luck or happiness left over. If Monday were a living thing, people would cower in fear when it passed them in the street in an attempt to avoid it. Gangs would beat it to a pulp the first chance they got, and Monday would most definitely, without a doubt, be Public Enemy Number One.

I may be going on a whim here, but I like to be organised and by being organised, I mean, I prepare schedules of what I need to do each day. I think days are very important, because life-changing events happen in each one to completely different people, and I love it. One day may seem very boring to one person, but to another, a miracle has just occurred in their life. Besides, days are vitally important to me because everyday is planned out and I know exactly what is going to happen. Usually.

Organization gives me a sense of control and without it, I literally crumble to pieces. I don't know what is what, I have no idea where I should be at a certain time, and I don't know what people I'm supposed to meet. This generally happens when the plan I'm intently trying to stick to is completely destroyed.

I couldn't survive without this one day of instant panic though. I have to submit to the fact that just because I hate and despise something doesn't mean it will finally leave me alone and disappear. It'll exist long after I'm gone. And that is a lesson well learnt.

I don't really know why I like Sundays, actually. They are the one day out of the whole week that is [i]never[/i] scheduled. Sunday is the only day I let myself 'go with the flow'. I let myself be disorganised for that one day and I don't like it, at [i]all[/i]. I suppose Sundays allow me the chance to relax and enjoy myself, and maybe that is why I like it so much. However, on a Sunday evening, I plan what I will do the next day - Monday. And nothing that I schedule for a Monday ever goes to plan, because - well, it is Monday, and Monday likes to mess people's lives up.

Ron always tells me that Monday changes everything, whether it is for the better or worse and that we have to accept this. It's easy to accept, but it isn't always as easy to forget.


	2. Unrequited Love?

**Chapter 1** - Unrequited love?

Acceptance. An easy word to come by, but when put into practise, it isn't so great.

Accepting something takes courage, maturity and co-operation. Accepting something could be as easy as accepting the pair of shoes you were eager to buy are no longer on sale. However, accepting death is a millions time harder than that and you would have to have extreme forgetfulness along with other attributes to accept this instantly. Saying this, there are many other things that take a long period of time to accept - situations that aren't as dire as death, but at the time you are experiencing them, it seems as if they are. Like accepting that no matter how hard you try and no matter how strong your emotions are, a person you love with all your heart doesn't _have _to love you back.

Take Lavender Brown for example. However much I hate and despise her, you can't ignore the fact that she was romantically involved with Ron. She may not have loved him, but she certainly wasn't repulsed by him, either. Ron, on the other hand, didn't share the same feelings towards her. At least he didn't seem to. If he did, wouldn't he have least gone parading around the school holding her hand once in a while? Wouldn't he have allowed Lavender to waltz around showing off her latest piece of eye candy? Ron - eye candy? Let's pretend I didn't say that. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that Lavender lusted after Ron and he didn't seem the least bit interested. No matter how much Lavender graved for his attention, Ron just simply swept her to one side and ran in the opposite direction. But that's Ron for you; he doesn't understand girls at all. Actually, any situation involving a girl would scare the living daylights out of him.

So you see, just because you love someone doesn't mean they are obligated to do the same. You could dedicate your entire live to them, but if they don't return the same feelings as you, the only reward you will get out of doing such a tediously consuming task is, at best, a smile. You'll get a quick 'thanks' and that'll be it. And then how will you feel? Useless and unwanted. And do we really want that? No is the answer. You have to accept that they don't feel the same way and attempt to move on with your life. However hard that may seem, you have to, because the person you love already has.

You may wonder how I know all this. The truth is - I don't. Or I do, so instead I act the complete opposite. Instead of begging and pleading for somebody's love, I mask the longing and affection with coldness and many, many arguments. Oh, don't worry; I'm not a horrible, cold-hearted person who looks their nose down at everyone. Honestly, I'm not in the position to do so. And even if I were, I wouldn't. No, I'm just awkward, cruel, ghastly and distant towards one person and one person only. And unfortunately, that person happens to be the boy I love.

Love seems like such a strong word, but it is the only way I can describe my feelings for him. I love the way he rubs the back of his neck when he gets nervous. I love the way he blushes when he is embarrassed or shy. I love the fact that he thinks he needs to accomplish something extraordinary to live up to his brothers. I even love his thick, red hair and the way that it stands out in a crowd so I can spot him within a second. However, he isn't perfect and I'm not going to pretend he is either. He can do things that infuriate me so much, but if anybody else did them, I wouldn't care at all. For one, whenever we finish our homework, he throws his stationery messily into his bag - how can he ever find it again if it is in ruins at the bottom of his bag? I doubt he does ever find anything he puts into that bag of his. I know this because he constantly asks me for a spare quill because he hasn't one to use. Typical - and, yet again, I get the undeniable 'thanks' as a response when I hand over a brand new, just-for-him quill. Oh, and the look he gives me whenever I mention Victor! That is one of my pet peeves. You can't even begin a sentence with the letter 'V' without some form of an insult spewing out of his mouth. Talking of S.P.E.W, I hate the fact that he has no interest whatsoever in something that matters so much to me. If he was my best friend like he says, he would at least _pretend _to be faintly interested!

Well, I suppose I shouldn't expect so much from someone who doesn't know the difference between a girl that lusts after him and a girl that loves him. I shouldn't assume that he knows why I blush when he compliments me. I shouldn't even contemplate the idea that maybe, just maybe, he likes me a whole lot more than he lets on. That is what I'm trying to avoid at all costs. But it's like a broken trolley with a wonky wheel in a supermarket - the more you try to push yourself in the right direction, the more the trolley is determined to bring you back to where you were to begin with. I try to block my feelings for him behind a brick wall; my way of moving on like I have just advised. I thought I had to. I thought he had moved on when he obtained a new love interest.

But apparently I was wrong.


	3. Obsession

**Chapter Two** - Obsession.

The summer holidays. Usually such a peaceful and relaxing time where you can do whatever you please. The weather is always exceptional and everyone seems to be in pleasant moods. This certain holiday is almost like a whole string of Sundays sewn together; the atmosphere is so positive that you just can't help but be happy and calm. However, when your mind is occupied, these certain aspects disappear and all that remains is people walking past at top speed while you delve deeper and deeper into your mind.

Normally, I quite enjoy my holidays; they give me time to complete my homework and relax when I get the chance. Still, nevertheless, this summer holiday I was recalling all the events that occurred during my sixth year and that certainly didn't make me smile with glee or urge me to go swimming in the sea on a hot day!

Does the fact that all the events I looked back on involve the boy I love make me obsessed? I wouldn't like to think I am. Obsession is definitely a key element to losing your self-control and I don't like the idea of revolving my entire life around one thing or person, either. But then again, I intended not to fall in love and look what happened there.

-

The snow falls thick and fast past the window as the moon appears behind the clouds. Neither I nor Ron or Harry can get to sleep and have decided to play a game of Chess to pass the time. Or more like, Ron and Harry have decided to play Chess and I'm a spectator. A very interfering spectator, I must say.

"No, Harry, E5, E5!" I yell, as I point my finger at the knight with a mischievous grin on its face.

Harry turns slightly in his seat to face me. "Hermione," He speaks calmly, with his eyes closed. "Who is playing against Ron?"

Ron begins to point at Harry furiously, his arms flying everywhere to catch my attention. As I scowl at Ron, Harry opens his eyes.

"I'm only trying to help, Harry!" I cry.

Ron moves one of his pawns forwards and grins in my direction while Harry looks intently at the board, concentrating on his next move. Harry sighs deeply and his eyebrows furrow.

"I give up."

Harry rises to his feet and bids both Ron and I goodnight before climbing up the stairs towards his dormitory.

"What got his wand in a knot?" Ron asks, as he starts to pack away his chess set.

"I have no idea," I reply worryingly. "Do you think it was because of me?"

"No, 'course not," Ron reassures me. "Maybe he's grumpy because he saw Ginny holding hands with Dean this morning,"

I sigh. Ron raises his eyebrows at me and places his chess board on the sofa nearest us.

"What?" Ron questions innocently.

"Well, wouldn't the fact he saw them holding hands be a logical explanation?"

"Who?"

"Ginny and Dean!" I exclaim loudly, shocking Ron.

"Oh," Ron says bluntly.

"Exactly. And you're acting as if that wouldn't be a big deal to him,"

"Maybe it wouldn't be. After all, he was the one that split up with Ginny in the first place," Ron says seriously, leaning back in his chair.

"So," I begin. "If you saw a person you liked holding hands with someone else, you would be fine

with it?"

Ron slumps in his seat making the chair fall to the ground and grumbles under his breath incoherently. His ears turn a dark shade of pink as my smile widens gradually.

"No. But I'd have to get over it, wouldn't I?" Ron finally says.

Oh, he thinks it is that easy, does he? If I saw the person I love holding hands with someone besides me, I would be heartbroken. Just the thought of it is a hideous thought, let alone witnessing it. But perhaps none of this enters Ron's mind and all he thinks of is kissing and. . .other things.

I nod in response.

"What would you do?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, utterly confused.

"Well," Ron says. "What would you do if you saw someone holding hands with - never mind,"

"I'm not even going to ask, Ron," I reply sharply and storm upstairs to my dormitory.

How can Ron not see that talking about Victor is getting old? Then again, how can Ron not be aware that someone is in love with him? Sometimes, I just. . . I don't know what to do. I want to distance myself from him because he continues to hurt me time and time again, but when I try, I end up caving in and giving him a second chance. How is that for self-control?

Self-control should not even be in existence! If no-one has it when it comes to love, why bother? I only decide I don't have it because the word is actually in a dictionary and can be used. Otherwise, I would let myself fall deeper and deeper into love and not care of the consequences. I wouldn't have to worry that I was thinking far too much and that my time would be less wasted doing my homework or revising for exams.

Knocking me out of my train of thought, a loud knock emits from the door.

"Who is it?" I call out, whilst I sit on my bed in darkness.

"Me."

Very specific. I know who it is now! Oh, it was so obvious from the beginning!

I stand up and dragging my feet on the floor as I take each step, I finally reach the door and open it a fraction. I peek through the gap and see Ginny standing out in the hallway, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger absent minded. I open the door the remainder of the way and usher Ginny inside the dormitory without saying a word and retreat back to my bed.

"Hermione," Ginny whispers, as she travels across the room. "Are you okay?"

I squeak involuntarily and nod my head.

"You're not. What's wrong?"

"Ginny, honestly, I'm fine," I reply, convincing no-one. "Why do you ask?"

Ginny tuts at me and hurries out of the room and into the dormitory bathroom. She could have at least interrupted me and informed me she needed the toilet, instead of pretending she was interested in what I had to say!

Although minutes later, Ginny comes sauntering back into the room with a handful of tissues grasped in her hand and sits down on my bed. She offers the tissues to me, before I shake my head and she rests them on the covers of my bed.

"I thought you might want them," Ginny explains, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. "Your eyes are all red and puffy."

And she can see that in the dark?

"I haven't been crying!" I cry defensively, causing Ginny to frown in sympathy.

"I didn't say you had been, Hermione. But I just thought -"

"Well, you thought wrong, didn't you," I retort rudely, the tears I was eager to hide, sliding down my

cheeks.

I realise that Ginny can relate to how I'm feeling, although on a totally different level. Harry has finished with her because he thinks it is the safest thing to do, while Ginny is is still madly in love with him but has accepted he must do what he has to do. Me, on the other hand - well, I'm in love with a boy that doesn't know the difference between a television and a telephone.

"Ginny, I didn't - forget I said anything," I say apologetically. "I'm sorry,"

Ginny shakes her head as she chuckles. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Just tell me what's wrong - although I think I know who made you upset anyway. . ."

"Oh, are you Professor Trelawney all of a sudden?" I joke.

"No, but I know that my brother is a stupid, insensitive occasionally and is the person that infuriates and aggravates you the most,"

I laugh at Ginny's truthful prediction and look down at my hands to avoid her eyes. Eyes are a window into the soul and if Ginny looks into mine, she'll be able to read me like a book.

"He mentioned Victor again -"

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny cries. "I've told you before - don't let Ron get to you! We all know he does it because -"

"Because he what? Hates me? Was born to make my life a living hell? Is jealous that I got to know Victor and he didn't?" I yell. I shout so loud, it's a wonder the walls don't crumble.

Ginny rolls her eyes and doesn't answer.

"He won't apologize. He'll expect everything just to fall back into place again," I comment bluntly,

twiddling my thumbs.

"Do you want it to?" Ginny asks.

"Well, I - yes," I raise my head and stare at Ginny. "Just don't tell him that, okay?"

"Why would I?" Ginny replies and her head flies back as she giggles loudly.

Ginny then proceeds to stand up and walk over to the door.

"I'll tell him you'll be down shortly, alright?"

I nod my head in response even though what she suggested is the opposite to what I want her to say. I want her to tell Ron I'm never going to speak to him ever again. I want her to pour a glass of water over his head in anger. For her to step heavily on his toes would even be enough. I just want him to suffer. Why should my heart break into millions of pieces over and over again when he is so oblivious, he wouldn't know an insult if it ran round him in circles, danced like a leprechaun and poked him in the eyes? If I told him that he was the most infuriating, annoying, lazy boy I have ever known, he would probably thank me. If I told him that he is someone that is always there for me when I least suspect it, he'd probably look like I had just slapped him in the face. You can't win!

"Hermione!" Someone calls loudly from the Common Room. The voice is deep and grizzly, so I don't have to guess twice to who it is.

I race down the stairs in record time, despite the fact I wanted to keep a low profile and ignore him and I spot him standing beside the fireplace waiting for me, looking very flustered indeed.

"What is it?" I question, beginning to panic.

"Nev - Neville just told me that Harry - Harry and Draco are in the dungeons," Ron says speedily.

"I think they're going to duel or something. I - we've got to get down there!"

With widened eyes, I agree with Ron and we storm out of the Common Room as quickly as we can. I lag behind incredibly as we reach the dungeons and Ron grabs my hand hurriedly. I wish he wouldn't do that._ He_ may think he is being protective, but it makes me extremely uncomfortable and forces me to blush unwillingly. This shows how ignorant and unobservant he is. Although, I've got to admit, before we enter the dungeons and we are plunged into darkness, I see his ears have gone slightly pink.


	4. Bower Of Bliss

**Chapter Three **- Bower of Bliss.

"Oh, look who it is - Weasley and The Mudblood!"

Standing in the entrance of the dungeons, Ron and I see Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Harry standing in the centre of the room, wands raised. To be honest, Crabbe and Goyle look like they don't have a clue what is happening, but that doesn't make them any less frightening to look at. I may be able to produce a spell easily, but if they hit me (which I am sure they wouldn't but that's beside the point) I would be knocked out like a light. I suppose that is one of the only reasons Malfoy even bothers to keep them two around! Without them, I'm sure Harry would have hit Malfoy before now. If it were not for Ron and I restraining him, of course.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron growls angrily, letting my hand go as we travel across the room towards him.

"Oh, yes," Malfoy slurs sarcastically, "because I'm going to take orders from someone like you,"

"What do you mean by that?" Ron asks indignantly.

"Ron - just leave it -" I coax, grabbing onto Ron's forearm as he takes a step closer to Malfoy.

"I mean," Malfoy says, with a hint of disgust, "that I'm not going to obey a Blood Traitor,"

As the words leave Malfoy's mouth, Harry advances towards him.

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"Don't insult Ron, Malfoy," Harry says blankly, ignoring Malfoy's question as he raises his wand to Malfoy's head.

"What'll happen if I decide not to, Potter?" Malfoy questions, with a smirk on his face. "Will you go running to your mummy? Oh, sorry, I forgot. You haven't got one -"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Malfoy is thrown off his feet and into the air, his wand flying off into a corner of the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle run to his aid looking rather concerned as he falls to the floor painfully, as I look to my left and see Ron standing frozen to the spot, holding his wand in the air. His hand that is not holding tightly onto his wand is clenching and unclenching rapidly and his face is slowly turning a dark shade of red.

As Malfoy scrambles on the floor for his wand, Crabbe and Goyle abandon him and begin to march towards Harry, cracking their knuckles with every step.

"What - you idiots, what are you doing? Go for the ginger; he was the one that disarmed me!" Malfoy yells across the room angrily, pointing in the direction of Ron and I.

"TARANTALLEGRA!" Ron bellows, apparently shouting out the the first spell that pops into his head.

The spell is cast in the direction of Crabbe and as a result, he begins dancing crazily across the room. Goyle has a look on his face that tells us he'd rather we didn't give him the same treatment and starts to back away from us fearfully. I grant him his wish and smile at him sweetly.

"LEVICORPUS!" I yell, dangling Goyle upside-down by the ankle in mid-air.

Trying to target Crabbe, who is now tap-dancing noisily on the stone floor, Ron turns his head to look at me.

"Why are you using one of Snape's spells?" Ron shouts, briefly pointing at Goyle to prove his point.

I don't have the chance to answer seeing as a spell is directed at me, causing me to duck for protection. I glance over at Malfoy and Harry who are in mid-battle - if you could call it that. Harry is beating Malfoy by a landslide! Malfoy has a large gash along his chest and his forehead is bleeding slightly. I don't know how it occurred and I don't think I want to. Harry, on the other hand, looks like a bruise is forming on his left eye, but besides that, looks unscathed. Nevertheless, I think things have gone too far and due to the fact that the boys aren't going to attempt to stop this pointless fight, I decide I have to.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!"

The boys freeze as the various spells and hexes that were flying around the room vanish. They turn their heads towards me and scowl. Ron and Harry look slightly relieved, to be honest, but are now defenceless and unhappy about it.

"Mudblood, what did you do?" Malfoy asks loathsomely, caressing a bump that has just appeared on his forehead.

"It doesn't matter what I did. The only thing that matters is that you lot were acting like a bunch of imbeciles and I had to stop you!" I shriek infuriately.

"Hermione," Ron interrupts rudely, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I didn't see you complaining when Goyle was hanging in the air!"

"Here, here!" Malfoy cheers. "I never thought I'd see the day where we agree, Weasley,"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry and Ron cry in unison, scrutinizing him.

Malfoy falls silent as I stare at each boy in turn.

"Harry, Ron - let's go."

Ron and Harry lift themselves off the floor and join me. Crabbe and Goyle attempt to follow them and beat them to a pulp, no doubt, but before they even comprehend the idea of moving their legs, Malfoy puts out his hand to halt them.

"Leave them," Malfoy orders and then he glares at Ron, Harry and I incredulously. "Here.

Tomorrow. After-hours."

"And why would we want to meet you here, again?" Harry retorts, taking a step closer to the exit of the dungeons.

"You'll regret it if you don't," Malfoy answers.

Ron laughs.

"What are you cackling about, Weasel?"

"Nothing, nothing," Ron says, a vacant smile still etched across his face. "I just don't see how we'll - what did you say - oh, 'regret' it,"

"Weasley, if you three don't turn up tomorrow night, you won't be the one smiling - I will."

Rolling his eyes and after a forceful push for me, Ron strides out of the dungeons in defeat, along

with Harry and I; who are willing to leave as soon as possible.

-

Once we arrive back in the Common Room, Harry decides he has nothing better to do than stomp up to his dormitory moodily and go to sleep, and leaves Ron and I sitting in front of the fireplace on a rather comfy, red sofa. Perhaps I'm slightly nervous because Ron is barely inches away from me and his thigh is grazing mine somewhat, but besides that, I'm relatively comfortable in my surroundings. Oh, alright. My palms are sweating and I can feel my heart crashing against my ribs furiously like a maddened prisoner trying to escape Azkaban.

"Are we really going to go back to the dungeons tomorrow?" I ask Ron curiously, desperately trying to distract myself from the fact my heart is doing the can-can.

"Suspect so," Ron mumbles tiredly. "Harry seems quite determined to,"

Ron isn't lying, either. The entire trip back to the Common Room, Harry babbled on about how he was going to jinx Malfoy into oblivion. Ron and I had exchanged glances and said nothing. There was hardly any point - when you get Harry started, he won't stop!

"I don't think it is a very good idea," I admit truthfully, watching ash from the fireplace fall gracefully onto the ground.

"Neither do I," Ron comments. "but lets just talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Ok."

We sit in silence for I don't know how long, letting the fire die down and the sky slowly turn darker, before Ron yawns loudly and shuffles on the sofa. He eventually ends up nearer to me than he was before, causing me to blush faintly. If he were sitting on top of me, it wouldn't even be as bad. It is the brief contact that does it.

"Hermione?"

I turn my head cautiously, afraid he is about to ask me to move. I may almost faint from him sitting so near, but if he weren't, I would crumble to pieces from the loss of feeling close to him.

"Yes. . ."

"You know earlier," Ron says, as I nod. "Well, when I asked you how you would react if you saw the person you liked holding hands with someone else, I meant - I didn't mean. . .Victor,"

Ron's cheeks instantly look flushed and his eyebrows rise, as if seeking approval. Approval for what?

"I never - never said you did."

"So, now that's clear," Ron clears his throat. "How would you react?"

"I'd. . .slap them," I lie.

Well, I can't very well tell the truth, can I? And it gets a hilarious reaction out of Ron, at least - his eyes widen and I hear him gulp loudly.

"Really?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" I say, winking at Ron flirtatiously.

Yes. I've just humiliated myself in front of the boy - the boy I love. I've practically admitted I love him. To his face.

"Yeah, well, you'll just have to wait and see who I hold hands with next, won't you?" Ron jokes, thankfully playing along.

Just this once, I'm glad Ron is so darn oblivious. If he weren't, I would already be digging my hole and lying in it.

"I suppose I -"

Ron grabs my hand that was lying carelessly on top my thigh and squeezes it. My spine shivers in response as he stares at me with his big, blue eyes.

"What are you going to do now, then?" Ron smirks devilishly.

"Goodnight, Ron," I reply, ignoring him as I pull my hand out of his gracefully and skipping up

the stairs towards my dormitory.

The only ghastly thing about what occurred is the fact that Lavender wouldn't even be close to jealous. But what a lovely way to end a Sunday.


	5. Knock Out!

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who has commented so far... and favourited this story and my others! (: I'm very grateful for it and it's very much appreciated. Thanks, guys! Keep 'em coming. **xxx**

**Chapter 4 - **Knock Out.

The next day, the snow has taken its toll on the grounds. Hagrid is already out sweeping the perimeters of the lake when I wake up in the morning and he looks extremely tired despite the fact it has only turned seven o'clock.

I swing my legs out of bed and slip my feet into my slippers with ease. Lavender and Parvarti are still fast asleep; Lavender is snoring and Parvarti is sucking her thumb soothingly. Both of their habits are regular accurances and I've become used to them over the years. Lavender once told me I mumble in my sleep, but I learnt not to believe her after she told me that I had muttered Ron's name during one of our longer arguments.

Rising to my feet and shuffling my feet towards the dormitory door as quietly as I can - as not to wake either of the girls in my dormitory (although perhaps I should have, seeing it is a Monday and we have lessons at nine o'clock) - I exit the room and make my way down the stone steps towards the Common Room, assuring myself that no-one will be down there in the early hours of the morning. I'm correct and the Common Room is completely deserted besides an owl that is attempting to peck at a sugar quill and Crookshanks.

"Hello, boy," I coo, stroking his ear.

He miaows timidly and then saunters away from me, towards the boy's dormitories.

"Crookshanks! Don't go over there!"

I try and fail to pick up Crookshanks as he wriggles out of my grasp and springs up the stairs. I chase after him, unfortunately going a million times slower and by the time I have caught up with him, he has entered Harry and Ron's dormitory, his tail swishing proudly in the air as he disappears.

"Crookshanks?" I whisper from outside the dormitory.

I was not going to step one foot in that dormitory! If it had been just Harry and Ron in there, it would have been fine, but the fact still remained that Neville, Dean and Seamus were also sleeping in there and if I walked into the room casually in my pyjamas and afro-like hair to retrieve my cat, they would snigger at me for the rest of the year.

"Hermione?"

Bugger, I'd been caught.

"Um. . .yes?" I reply, trying to keep my voice as low as possible.

I wait, standing outside on the cold stone floor, until the door opens fully and Harry is standing there looking thoroughly confused. Wearing long, blue pjyamas, he stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"You want to speak to R - Ron?" Harry asks me, yawning.

My eyes widen in confusion and I shake my head instantly.

"No! I mean, no - I'm not," I stutter. "I'm here to collect Crookshanks!"

Harry looks behind him and as he turns his head back round, I realise he is chuckling.

"What?" I snap.

"He's under Ron's bed," Harry replies, a smile still plastered across his face.

"And how is that funny?"

"Because he hates him!" Harry exclaims, before looking from Ron's bed to me. "Do you want to get him?"

"Crookshanks?"

"Who do you think I meant?" Harry asks, eyebrows raised.

"Crookshanks!" I shriek; I feel myself blushing as I do.

With a faint smirk still on Harry's face, he steps back and moves out of the doorway, allowing me to enter the room. Surveying the room, I slowly walk in there and make my way towards Ron's bed. I kneel down on the floor and, putting my head underneath the bed, I persuade Crookshanks to come out from under the bed with the bribe of food.

Without so much as a miaow or growl in my direction, Crookshanks crawls out from the bed and sweeps by my face - moulting hairs on my face as he does so.

"Oh, Crookshanks, honestly!" I cry, pulling myself off the floor hurriedly.

I stand up, dusting myself off as Ron rolls onto his side and mumbles from the disturbance, smiling. I have to stop myself from doing the same and turn around and face Harry.

"I suppose I'll see you at breakfast, then?" I question.

"Yeah," Harry replies, the grin that appeared when I entered the room not disappearing once.

*

"Morning."

"Mornin' 'Mione," Ron replies tiredly, as he plops himself on the bench opposite me.

Averting my gaze away from Ron, I lower my head slightly as I cut my bacon. Harry and Ron begin a conversation about Quidditch which lasts for almost half an hour; I stay silent for the duration - I'm clueless about the sport and don't feel the need to be informed about it, either.

"- but no player can lock broom handles with the intent to steer an opponent off course, Harry!"

If only Ron put this knowledge to some use and then, perhaps, he wouldn't always think he is useless and in his brother's shadows. He could become a professional in something related with Quidditch! If he just thought about it for one second -

"Alright, Ron, I get what you mean! No need to repeat yourself!"

He already said that? I hadn't noticed.

"I know," Ron glances at me. "You might not have known, that's all,"

The three of us sit in silence until I hear Ron cough slightly and I raise my head to look at him. I notice he has a hold of his neck and his face is gradually turning pink. He's choking on a piece of food! I've told him to chew his food properly thousands of times! Why doesn't he listen to me?

"Ron!"

Harry stands up from his seat and attempts to give Ron the Heimlich manoeuvre. As Ron's face turns a darker shade of red, I spot Professor McGonogall racing down the Great Hall, her robes held up above her ankles, hoping that may speed her.

That's when I realise I'm just sitting there, witnessing this event, with my mouth wide open. I'm not doing anything! I have my hands resting on the table, my feet are nervously tapping on the floor and I'm shaking. I'm shaking; yet when I try to move, I can't. I want to help but my muscles forbid me to do so. I feel my eyelids blink heavily but that is the only movement I am aware of besides the constant shaking that has attacked my body. It won't go away, it won't stop, it won't slow down and it won't stop me scrunching my toes together at the bottom of my shoes. It's almost like an internal battle; one side of my body is willing to fight, move, help Ron and the other side is frightened to death, afraid that if it helps it may endanger Ron further.

This is the moment I realise that I don't want Ron to feel any pain. Not just momentarily, but forever. The many times I have tried to inflict pain on Ron and failed - I'm glad. If the feelings that plough themselves through me as I watch Ron choke to death were to have appeared, I would have hated myself. Just like I do now.

This is the moment that I hear Harry shout loudily in my ears, asking me why I didn't help Ron.

"Seriously Hermione, I'm fine, don't worry about it," Ron mumbles gruffly over Harry's ranting, his face gradually returning to it's normal pale appearance after he, rather disgustingly, spits out a piece of bacon and it rolls on the table for several seconds before, soaking with saliva, lays there. Ron stares at it for several seconds.

I smile hesitantly in his direction (once he's stopped looking at what could have caused his premature death) and look down at my plate in embarrassment.

Thoughts run through my head: If I ever really did have a chance, I've blown it now! If roles were reversed, I'm sure Ron would have tried to stop me from choking instantly! What is he going to think of me now? He'll never speak to me again...

-

"Hermione, would you stop blaming yourself?" Ron whispers in my ear. "Harry doesn't know what he's talking about. Of course I'd have sat there looking like a blumbering twit if it had happened to you! Don't listen to what he says."

I'm not always right. Ron speaks to me again, but at a price…now Harry is no longer speaking to me. But I'd rather him than Ron, to be honest.

I've gone months without speaking to Ron and it feels like hell. The cold looks, the sneers and the spiteful comments from Ron hurt me more than anything Harry could say. I know Harry doesn't mean what he says and even when he does, I know it is all just in the heat of the moment. With Ron, I know he is telling the truth. He tells you exactly what he is feeling and doesn't bother to leave out any of the details.

"_Victor - Victor! Honestly, I'll only be a couple of seconds! I've just got to say hello to those two!" I cried over the music, pointing over to Harry and Ron._

"_Ah," Victor said, almost winking at me it seemed. "The red head?"_

_Somewhat confused, I nodded my head. "And the one with the black hair, too."_

"_Ov course." Victor smiled. "I'll go get us some drinks, shall I?_

_I nodded my head and left Victor to sway along to the music on his own as he went to collect some drinks. I quickly made my way towards Ron and Harry. Fanning myself slightly from the intense heat in the hall, I sat down beside Harry._

"_Hi," said Harry. I noticed Ron didn't say anything._

"_It's hot, isn't it?" I commented, distracting myself from the disgruntled look Ron was directing at me. "Victor's just gone to get some drinks."_

"_Victor?" Ron retorts. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"_

_I was, to say the least, surprised. Why would he have said such a thing?_

"_What's up with you?" I replied, utterly confused._

"_If you don't know," Ron had been looking in every direction but mine until that very moment but when our eyes finally met, I wished they hadn't. His eyes looked frozen, the blue irises looking as cold as ice. "I'm not going to tell you."_

_I couldn't stop staring at his blue eyes, the eyes that looked like they wanted to pierce me, stab me, throw me off a cliff._

"_Ron, what - ?"_

"_He's from Dumstrang!" Ron spat, his eyes travelling from me to Harry every couple of seconds. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts - "_

Ron certainly doesn't leave out any details. He tells the whole truth.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asks from beside me, unaware that I've just remembered something he wants to forget. I want to forget. The words, the actions, the way his eyes tore into me like an iceberg. It was as if I were the Titanic and he were the iceberg at sea, waiting, needing, counting down the seconds until he could attack me. Like I had so obliviously attacked him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I lie repeatedly.

"Good." Ron smiles. "Hermione, look, you know I mentioned -"

Ron is interrupted as Harry comes storming into the Common Room, his robes flying excitedly in the air.

"We'd better get going. If any teachers see us out after-hours then we're dead," Harry says speedily, his voice as strangled as Ron's was when he told me Harry was stuck in the dungeons with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

Ron glances at me and sighs.

"Alright, let's get going."

We both stand up in unison and I grab Ron's hand in haste.

"Wait," I whisper to Ron, before looking over at Harry and saying, "I don't think this is a good idea…"

"Hermione, we have to - "

"No! Harry, for once, just do what you are told!" I cry, tightening my grasp on Ron's hand.

-

They never listen to me. Never. What am I - an agony aunt they never listen to?

"Have you got your wands ready?" Harry whispers to Ron and I, leaning against the door that leads to the dungeons.

We both nod our heads, then realise Harry cannot see and say yes. I roll my eyes, embarrassed at my own stupidity and I pat Ron on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Right, here we go - "

"STUPEFY!"

A voice echoes around the dungeon as we enter the room. Fortunately, we all duck in time for the spell to fly over our heads and sigh in relief. I raise my head as I stand up and see Malfoy strutting towards us from the opposite side of the dungeons, his wand in the air, his greasy hair slicked back further than ever.

"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" I scream, before either Harry or Ron can utter a word.

Malfoy topples to the floor, his legs locked together tightly as Harry and Ron advance on Crabbe and Goyle. Our sub-consciously planned strategy going smoothly - one Slytherin per person.

"CRU - " Malfoy croaks forcefully from the floor, his wand directed at Harry.

"Don't you dare, Malfoy!" I shriek, striding towards him in seconds.

"Oh, come on, Mudblood," Malfoy says coyly, "we all know you wouldn't care if I hit Potter. It's Weaselbee I should be looking out for - "

"DENSAUGEO!" Ron shouts angrily across the room; I look over at him, his face red, his fists clenched. Did he hear what Malfoy said? "Let's see how you like it!"

Finally realising what spell Ron has cast, I look to Malfoy who has his hands cupped over his mouth. His teeth are growing rapidly and he looks extremely panicked. Although, however panicked Malfoy may be, the anger still shows and he manages to sweep his wand across Ron, causing the latter to fly backwards into the wall behind him, knocking him unconscious.

"RON!" I scream loudly. I want to run towards his mangled body and check he isn't injured. But I can't. This is far worse than watching him choke. He lies there with his eyes closed, his wand limply held in his hand and if I'm not mistaken, blood is beginning to trickle onto the floor and into his hair. The crimson red causes me to feel faint but yet all I do is stand on the spot, swaying slightly.

Malfoy, cupping his mouth tiresomely, widens his eyes at the sight of blood oozing out of Ron's head and points to the door. Unable to speak, Draco leads Crabbe and Goyle out of the dungeons without a word, the three of them racing out the room as fast as they possible can. As Harry runs towards Ron, I'm knocked out of my trance.

"Ron!" I croak, tears beginning to roll my cheeks.

"Ron? Are you okay?" Harry asks, as I run over to them both.

What a stupid question to ask! Of course he isn't okay! He's bleeding and he is unconscious! It couldn't get much worse than that.

"Hermione," Harry looks up at me, his hands holding Ron's head above the ground. "Go get Madam Pomfrey!"

"No way, Harry!" I reply, sharing the weight of holding Ron by wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

If only this contact were to occur when he were awake to witness it. Sadly, that isn't the case.

"Well, we can't just leave him here - "

"No, Harry, I mean - _I'm_ not leaving him. You go and get her!" I plead, pushing his hands away from Ron. "Please."

Harry's eyes survey me for a couple of seconds, flickering left to right.

"Alright - try and wake him up while I'm gone."

"Harry, I don't think that's such a good idea…" I trail off, knowing full well that Harry won't take my advice.

"Alright, alright," Harry answers calmly. "Do whatever you think is best. I'll be back as soon as possible."

-

By the time we arrive in the Infirmary, I'm still shaking. I can't stop. Until Ron regains consciousness, it won't stop. That's a certainty.

This is much, much worse than Ron choking on a piece of bacon. This is awful - what if he doesn't wake up? What if he - no, he won't.

"Miss Granger?"

I spin round in my seat and Madam Pomfrey is standing behind me, pointing at her wrist.

"Visiting times are over, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey continues, tapping her watch noisily. "However, I can see you're suffering from severe shock and it might be safer for you to remain here for the night."

I nod politely and scan the room for a bed. Although all the beds are actually vacant besides the one Ron is lying in, I want to have a choice. I choose the bed situated opposite him.

"What about Harry?" I ask Madam Pomfrey.

"Potter? Well, I'll wake him up and ship him out when I feel the need to."

"And Ron's family? They'll want to know he's been hurt!" I cry quickly.

"Yes, yes - I'll let his sister know in the morning. Besides, Professor McGonogall has been informed of this and will send an owl to them immediately."

Madam Pomfrey then dawdles back into her office and leaves me lying on top of the bed I have chosen, wearing blood-stained clothes as I stare intently at Ron.

What was the last thing I said to him? I can't remember! No, hang on. . .I told him to - I told him I was fine. Oh, no, I didn't say that! I - I told him to wait.


	6. Haste Kiss

**Chapter Five - Haste Kiss.**

_"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, repeating the movement he had just described for the fifth time._

_I was very eager to put theory into practise, but the stupidity and lack of concentration that my fellow peers possessed was preventing me from doing so._

_"Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick! And saying the magic words is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."_

_I surveyed the room and my eyes landed on Harry Potter and Seamus Finnigan. It seemed as if they were staring attentively at the feather we had been instructed to levitate, hoping that they may, somehow, make it float by simply gawping at it. However, seconds later, Seamus bravely picked up his wand and poked the feather briefly, causing the latter to explode into pieces, the ashes smouldering as it came into contact with the table._

_Knocking me out of my reverie, I heard Ronald Weasley, who was sitting beside me, flap his arms in the air wildly, attempting to successfully cast the spell._

_"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" Ron shouted, his long arms almost smacking me in the face._

_Almost in danger of having my nose swiped off my face, I'd had enough already. Ron was one of the students dragging me behind and if he wasn't going to improve, I'd help him do so. Whether he wanted to or not!_

_"You're saying it all wrong!" I explained, as politely as I could to someone who was halting my education. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa; make the "gar" nice and long."_

_Ron turned his head as slowly as humanly possible and glared at me before saying, "You do it, then, if you're so clever,"_

_I rolled up my sleeves as if I were a professional in Charms, knowing full well I was able to cast the spell, a hint of satisfaction on my face as I smiled in Ron's direction._

_Flicking my wand calmly, I said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"_

_The feather Ron and I had been given began to rise off the desk slowly, eventually hovering just above our heads._

_"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick cried from the pile of books he was standing on, clapping his hands excitedly. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"_

_Everyone seemed to stare at me for a couple of seconds, no sense of praise or happiness etched on their faces, before they turned their attention back to the feathers in front of them. A scowl appeared on each of their faces as they did so, secretly loathing me for completing the task at hand without any difficulty._

_By the end of the lesson, most students had, at the very most, managed to levitate their feather off the table a few inches. When the class was dismissed, I saw Harry and Ron leave the classroom in frustration, Ron giving me an angry sideward glance before disappearing out the door. As I tidied up my belongings and packed them into my bag, Professor Flitwick approached me, a piece of parchment in his small, wrinkly hand._

_"Miss Granger," he said placidly, a smile on his face. "If you're interested, I have some extra credit homework for you to complete. It'll raise your final mark in Charms considerably, but it is your choice!"_

_Bursting with enthusiasm, I nodded my head politely and he passed me the piece of parchment he had been holding. I unfolded it and read the contents. For extra credit work, it didn't look at all difficult; I assured myself that I could finish it in a few hours. Certainly a possibility._

_Practically skipping as I exited the classroom, I walked down the corridor connected to the Charms classroom, many of the students that had just left still walking hurriedly down it in a crowd. Just ahead of me, I could see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walking side by side, talking animatedly._

_"It's no wonder no one can stand her," I overheard Ron say to Harry, getting knocked into slightly as they both made their way down the corridor. However, Ron - and indeed Harry - seemed undisturbed by this and Ron continued speaking. "She's a nightmare, honestly."_

_It didn't take very long to realise who they were talking about. Almost instantly, my pace quickened and, although intending to bump into Ron, I knocked into Harry, tears springing in my eyes from what I'd just heard. What had I ever done to Ronald Weasley? For some unknown reason, he had taken an immediate dislike to me and was set to make certain I knew. And all I was trying to do was make friends at a new school._

_I eventually disappeared into the crowd, hoping I'd never see that atrocious boy with dark red hair ever again. Unfortunately, I glimpsed his hair through the immense crowd, and wiping away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, I ran to somewhere no one would think to look for me._

"It's snowing again."

Not that it matters - I'm not even staring out of the window to witness it. Harry has just mumbled it into my ear as I gaze down upon Ron who has still not woken up.

"You know," Harry says, "you should get some sleep."

"I just woke up!" I exclaim, glancing at the clock on the wall to check I'm correct.

"I know, I know. But you still look really tired."

I ignore Harry's comment and continue to look at Ron. He's begun mumbling slightly every so often but now it's like a repeat of last year. Minus a girl named Lavender and poisoned mead.

"Hermione, we should go and have some breakfast now. We'll come back later after we've gone to our lessons," Harry suggests, tugging at the sleeve of my robes.

"I'm not going to lessons today, Harry! I have to stay here!" I shriek, swatting his hand away. "What if he wakes up?"

"Well, if he does," Harry answers, sighing, "he'll have to wait until we get back to speak to us, won't he?"

"Fine." I groan, a scowl on my face.

Harry smiles at me, I grab his hand and he lifts me up from my seat. I scan the room and bite my lip.

"What've we got first?"

"Um," Harry mutters quietly.

"What?"

"We've got Potions." Harry says simply, wincing in preparation for an angry outburst.

Sensing that he predicts me to shout, scream and refuse to exit the room, I do the complete opposite and simply shrug my shoulders calmly, although inside I'm seething.

"That's fine. Absolutely fine." I say, not entirely sure I'm convincing myself, let alone Harry.

We go to walk out of the room, but then, deciding there is something I need to do before we leave, I tell Harry to wait outside for me. Harry nods at me, as if understanding why and I close the door tightly before walking over to Ron's bed.

"If you can hear or sense me, don't tell Harry."

I bend down, reaching the height of where Ron's head lays on the pillow. I pucker my lips and swiftly kiss Ron on the cheek and then, before he can surprise me and wake up or before Madam Pomfrey sees me, I run out of the room, a blur to anyone watching.

I skid on the floor as I come to a clumsy halt outside the Infirmary and see Harry standing opposite me, leaning against a wall. I've surprised him, seeing as he jumps up suddenly and smiles at me nervously when I appear.

"Ready?"

"As I ever will be,"

And we exit the corridor, Harry soothingly wrapping his arm around my shoulder for comfort.

-

"Granger," I hear a voice behind me sneer, "Did you tell McGonagall that it was me that caused Weasley's injury?"

I shake my head, continuing to look towards the board and scribble some random nonsense on my parchment to occupy me. Hopefully this'll fool Draco and his friends that I'm actually doing something besides listening to them and they'll leave me alone.

"Is he alive?" Malfoy cackles quietly.

I don't turn around or answer him and continue doing exactly the same thing. Writing, writing, writing. Some people think doing the same thing so often would get tiresome and annoying, but, at least to me, it doesn't. Although I do have callused fingers from writing excessively, my eyesight is still perfect and I'm able to read perfectly well.

"I'd just ignore them."

I smile at Harry's comment, knowing full well that the comment I reinforce on both Ron and him daily is no use and is the most idiotic piece of advice anyone could ever give. It isn't easy to ignore someone. If they decide to target you in a certain situation, there is nothing you can do about it and you most certainly cannot block out their nasty and hateful remarks whenever you feel like it. This goes for friends, family and enemies. Ron, my parents, Malfoy. All of them.


	7. Ambush

**Chapter Six – Ambush**

Ron's family are informed of the accident. If only I'd been more persistent on not going down to the dungeons and perhaps this whole thing might have not happened at all. The thought of Ron never waking up practically causes my heart to spasm in terror. I've almost known Ron for half of my life already...and I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him.

"Ron!"

Ron's eyes flicker open and his eyebrows furrow.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ron shouts, and he pushes me away from him; I topple onto the floor in a heap, tears fighting their way out. I stop them, however much I want them to pour down my face.

"Ron, it's me!" I cry, as I grasp the edge of the bed and haul myself off the floor.

"Who is me?"

"Hermione! It's Hermione!"

Ron's eyes widened and I began to grin happily, convinced he's recalled who I am.

"Oh, you're the annoying girl I met on the train the other day!" Ron bellows. "Did you find that toad in the end?"

I exchange glances with Harry and frown. "He - what is he talking about?" Harry shrugs.

Ron's attention is suddenly averted to Harry. "Oh, Harry Potter!" Ron looks back at me. "We shared a compartment on the train,"

"Yeah, like six years ago, mate," Harry replies, looking utterly confused.

"No, no, it was just a couple of days ago -"

In a moment of desperation, I reach out for Ron's hand, so utterly confused about what is going on. His touch doesn't heal me because moments after my hand comes into contact with his, he moves his entire arm to rest upon the side of the bed, a look of disgust etched clearly across his face.

"But - oh, this isn't - this isn't fair! He just -" I blush. "Harry, do you think we should get Madam Pomfrey?"

"That'd probably be a good idea," Harry replies, as I look over to him and he is gazing out the window looking quite panicked.

Within minutes, I've retrieved Madam Pomfrey and by the look on her face, she seems concerned herself.

"I think we've got a case of memory loss here." Harry and I raise our eyebrows, indicating that we knew this without her diagnosis and she rolls her eyes in annoyance. "I don't have any idea how long this could last for. Days, weeks, months? We'll – you'll just have to wait it out, I'm afraid."

I feel my stomach tighten. "Could you excuse me a minute?" As she nods, I back away from Madam Pomfrey and Ron - who is now asking for his pet rat back - and I walk out of the ward slowly, trailing Harry along behind me.

Once outside the Infirmary, Harry tries to console me. But it just doesn't work. However hard he may try.

"Hermione, I understand how you are feeling. All Ron thinks of me now is the famous 'Harry Potter'. He'll act star stuck for ages," Harry's comforting is rejected and I swat him away, tears beginning to trickle down my face.

"No, Harry, you don't understand! At least he liked you instantly when he met you. He hated me the first time he set eyes on me!" I cry. "The only reason we became friends is because a troll attempted to kill me! I doubt that will happen again, so I have no chance of even re-kindling our friendship."

"Hermione -"

"No, Harry, you made friends with him the natural way." I pause for a moment to catch my breath. Crying doesn't really help the situation at all. " Interaction, long conversations - Quidditch was even something you had in common!" I snap. "There is no way on earth Ron is going to remember me. Ever."

**AN: This is a very short chapter, but the rest are pretty long, so they'll make up for it. (: xx**


	8. Abeyance

**Chapter Seven - Abeyance.**

After Mr and Mrs Weasley have been contacted and told of Ron's 'problem', Harry and I decide to wait in the Infirmary until they arrive there the next day. Both of us sit at either side of Ron's bed, listening to him babble on about nonsense. Plenty of what Ron is saying is of no importance to either Harry or me, as most things he can remember occurred before he attended Hogwarts. However, when Ron mentions his twin brothers turning his teddy bear into a hairy spider when he was at the age of four, it's at least one thing that sounds familiar.

"So," Ron says, after almost half an hour of talking non-stop. "Why aren't we at school? Is this St. Mungos? I've never been in here before!"

I wipe away several tears that have just escaped from my eyes and smile. My emotions are still getting the better of me.

"Um, we're," Harry and I exchange glances. He nods; I have no idea what he is nodding about. "Ron, we're in Hogwarts' Infirmary. You've been here...millions of times."

Ron looks at me as if I have gone barking mad. "I have? Well, I've heard of this place, anyway... Fred and George are always being sent here after some prank they've pulled."

"Oh, ok,"

I hear the scraping of chair legs against the floor and raise my head to see Harry standing up.

"I'm going to go see if Ginny is alright; I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Harry whispers to me, giving me a reassuring smile and exiting the room.

There is an extremely awkward silence immediately after Harry leaves, as I fiddle with a loose piece of thread on my sleeve and Ron stares at me with a blank expression on his face. I'm avoiding his gaze at all costs; otherwise I'll break down crying.

"What's your name, again?" Ron asks suddenly.

I sniff. "Hermione - Hermione Granger,"

Ron nods his head slowly and holds out his hand to me.

"I'm Ron Weasley,"

I stare at Ron's hand intently for several seconds before grabbing it tightly. Mid-shake, both Ron and I freeze, our eyes locking sharply. My emotions about to make another grand entrance, I quickly let go of Ron's hand and anxiously slip my hands back into my lap, fresh new tears pouring down my cheeks as I do so.

"Sorry," Ron says apologetically, causing me to sob quietly even more. "Did I hurt you or something?"

"No, of course not," I exclaim, chuckling, though I feel like groaning. "I just - Ron, do you not remember me at all?"

The blank expression etched on Ron's face does not disappear and gives me the answer I don't want.

"I can't recall any memories of us...I can only vaguely remember you..." Ron trails off, a look of intense concentration on his face.

I sigh loudly and then, rather dramatically, I begin crying once more, resting my upper body on Ron's bed.

Ron pats my head awkwardly. My sobs become louder, but as he begins stroking my hair softly, my cries quieten considerably.

"I'm really sorry," Ron mutters. "I'm thinking so hard. Were you ever a friend of Ginny?"

I nod my head and then mumble through the bedspread, "Yes – I still am in fact – but that's only because I was a friend of yours first,"

"Oh," Ron states plainly and then his eyebrows furrow and he sighs. "I'm confused,"

Well, this halts 'Operation Find Out If Ron Loves Me'. Not that it was ever in progress. Besides, he can hardly remember who I am, let alone whether he was in love with me or not, so it would be a lost cause trying to find out. I know they tell you life isn't fair, but honestly, this isn't. It's like being back at Square One. Back in our first year. Except this is worse. History isn't going to repeat itself; it isn't going to replay itself so Ron can remember exactly what has happened since he's known Harry and I.

"Do you remember being on the Hogwarts Express, Ron?" I ask. I might as well try and find out if he remembers anything at all. Anything. Everything. Something.

"Yeah. You asked Harry Potter and I if we had seen a toad..." Ron squints. "...named Donald, I think."

"Trevor," I say, correcting him.

"Yeah, Trevor. Trevor the toad." Ron chuckles goofily. If he weren't in the state he were in, I'd have laughed along with him. "Then...you came in again...told me I had dirt on my nose."

"You remember that?" I smile faintly and feel the need to reach out and stroke the spot the dirt was on his nose in first year. I almost do before telling myself he'll probably yell at me and decide not to.

"Of course," Ron's lop-sided smile makes an appearance and tears fill my eyes. I forbid them to roll down my cheeks and blink them away. "What've I said now?" Ron says, noticing the tears in my eyes before I have the chance to make them disappear away altogether.

"Nothing." I mumble. "Nothing."

For once, he hasn't. He's said something nice and it has sent me to tears. I'll look like a blubbering twit if I begin sobbing again.

"Oh right," Ron mutters, as he looks to his left and I see Lavender Brown walk past the Infirmary in a rush. She disappears for a second before poking her head through the door, a smile on her face.

"Is he alright?"

My mouth opens slightly, preparing to fire a witty remark at Lavender but I'm stopped before I can even begin.

"Can't you see we're talking?" Ron suddenly retorts. " off."

Lavender widens her eyes and swiftly leaves the room in a huff, her brow furrowed.

"Why did you say that?" I gasp, flabbergasted.

"Well," Ron answers smugly. "She looks like a tart and, well, we were talking, weren't we?"

" I - I - yes, I suppose we were."

Sometimes, just sometimes, Ron really surprises me. Seventeen year old self or not.


	9. Idiotic Excuse For A Girl

**Chapter Eight - Idiotic Excuse For A Girl.**

Mrs Weasley visits Ron the next day and, as she enters the Infirmary, I walk by, intending to briskly walk by and leave her to nurse her son. I'd walked by to catch a glimpse of Ron before I went for my breakfast - I hadn't known his mother would be there already! But as I wave at her and go on my way, she runs out the room, insisting I come and pay Ron a visit so he feels like he is in familiar surroundings. Fat chance.

"Ron," Mrs Weasley sings. "Someone's here to see you!"

Ron, who is propped up by a pile of pillows eating porridge, strains his neck to look round his mum and see who has come to visit him. A huge disappointment if you ask me.

"Oh," Ron mutters, as he glimpses me and swallows a mouthful of his porridge speedily. "Hi."

"Hey there."

I smile at Ron and sidle into the room, sitting on the seat beside him as quickly as I can. I turn to Mrs Weasley.

"Where is the rest of the family?" I ask her curiously, turning back to Ron as I finish my sentence.

"Well, Ginny is with Harry now, but she came to see Ron earlier this morning...and the others are coming later. They've been told of his," Mrs Weasley glances at Ron cautiously. "Condition."

I stay silent. I really don't know what to say in response.

"So, haven't you got anything planned for today, Hermione?" Mrs Weasley asks me, as she takes the seat opposite me.

"Seeing as it's Wednesday, I do have lessons, but despite that, I have nothing to do, no." I answer, attempting to grin but end up smiling bleakly.

My day is pretty much predictable. I'll spend the time I should be eating my breakfast with Ron, then I'll go to lessons and take notes that'll make no sense whatsoever when I read them over. Then I'll have lunch. That will, no doubt, be spent at Ron's bed side. Then I'll have some more lessons, which I will count down the seconds in, each minute going even slower than the next. After which, I'll return to the Infirmary, finally going back to the Common Room for sleep when Madam Pomfrey kicks me out.

"Oh, well, if you feel like popping in to see Ron or me, then that's perfectly fine."

That's sweet of her. She could probably sense I was going to stop at the Infirmary at some point and decided she'd ask to make me feel slightly better about my obsession.

I can't even let go of a boy that I know certainly doesn't like me. He doesn't even remember me! And if he does like me, it isn't for the reasons I want him to.

"I'm just going to go see Madam Pomfrey and find out everything I need to find out about. . .well, I'll see you in a minute."

Oh, how convenient. Leave me with Amnesia Boy. The boy that only remembers that I told him he had dirt on his nose. And that I was looking for a toad on the train. I shouldn't moan, really. I'm quite lucky. At least he hasn't forgotten me altogether. He remembers the buck-toothed, know-it-all me. In actual fact, nothing much has changed. Besides the buck teeth, of course.

"That girl came back last night."

I widen my eyes and ask Ron to repeat himself.

"What - Lavender?" I question, my stomach doing hurdles.

"I don't know her name!" Ron cries, his eyes darting around the room. "But - just - she tried to kiss me!"

"Well, what did you do, then?"

Ron's face turns about one hundred different shades of red before his eyebrows rise, a silent way of asking me whether I really want the answer. I fear it, but I nod my head, anyway. Why do I do these things to myself?

"She - she tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away. And she fell on her bum after that. I think I pushed her a bit too hard." Ron laughs insanely after this, chuckling at Lavender's misfortune of being so skinny that her weight couldn't handle being pushed slightly.

"Oh right," I mutter, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "So...you don't like her then?"

I can only assume he is talking about Lavender, otherwise I've got the wrong end of the stick.

"Merlin, no! Why would I?"

I almost want to skip around the room merrily with joy, but I stop myself and settle with shrugging my shoulders in a nonchalant way.

"What did she do after she fell to the floor?" I ask, a smile creeping onto my face subconsciously. "Did she leave?"

Ron rolls his eyes, but can't help smiling before he explains. I'm hoping this is funny and humiliating for Lavender. She certainly deserves it.

"She told me that if I wanted to stick with a bushy haired know-it-all, then that was fine and...I'd missed my last chance." Ron sighs. "Then she left. I was glad, really. I hadn't understood a word that she had said!"

Bushy haired know-it-all? At least I'm not an over-confident, idiotic excuse for a girl! If Lavender was the last woman on the earth and there was only one man left, she'd find it extremely difficult. She'd have to stick with one person. She wouldn't be able to cope!

"You know," Ron continues, completely forgetting Lavender and The Kiss That Almost Happened. "You've been really nice to me since I woke up. I hardly know you, but you've been there for me, you know?"

I'm glad he appreciates my devotion to him.

"Well, it's no problem, really - you would have done the - it's no problem, honestly." I stammer, the thoughts in my head not managing to translate into speech clearly.

"Can you - only if you don't mind - can you tell me some of the stuff I can't remember?" At the sight of my eyes widening, he says, "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey told me about my...memory loss. My mum is still a bit upset by it and doesn't want to admit I know, that's all."

If no-one could spot the change in Ron since the incident, they would have spotted it then.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you." I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat. "You basically know everything about your family and Hogwarts - seeing as your family went here before you did."

Ron smiles.

"Yeah, I know all that. I also know that you and Harry were my best friends." Ron explains. "Ginny told me when she visited me earlier."

"Did she say anything else?" I say automatically, fearing the worst.

"Well, no - she said - no, she didn't say anything else about us." Ron averts his gaze away from me.

I'm suddenly extremely confused and I slouch into my chair. I try and think of anything Ron might need to know, but before I have the chance to even up my mouth, Mrs Weasley walks out of Madam Pomfrey's office carrying a Remembrall.

"Mum!" Ron whines, glancing at me nervously. "I don't need one of those! Hermione can tell me what I don't remember!"

"You can't depend on Hermione being with you all the time! Besides, I didn't ask for you to have one; Madam Pomfrey insisted you use it - just in case." Mrs Weasley replies, reaching Ron's bed and extending her hand out for him to take the Remembrall.

"I don't want it!" Ron groans, refusing to take it out his mother's grasp. "Give it to someone else! Just tell Madam Pomfrey you gave it to me, anyway."

Mrs Weasley sighs and places the Remembrall on Ron's bedside cabinet.

"Madam Pomfrey said you're free to go once you agree to use it." Mrs Weasley states bluntly as she heads towards the door. "The rest of the family and I may be back later to ask Madam Pomfrey if you are okay, but besides that," Mrs Weasley opens the door and steps one foot out of the room, "behave yourself."

Mrs Weasley leaves the room and minutes later, I hear the faint noise of people making their way from the Great Hall to their first lesson.

"I'll have to go now." I say to Ron, the chatter of other students getting louder. "When do you think you'll be let out?"

Ron shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm not sure. I'll see you later, though." Ron raises his eyebrows. "Right?"

"Um - if you want to..." I trail off, flinging my school bag over my shoulder and standing up from my seat.

"Yeah, I probably will, then." Ron replies, ruffling his hair messily. "See you."

"See you."

I'm pathetic, honestly. I can't even let Ron get on with his life without interfering. I thought the situation between us was complicated and confusing before and wished on my life that it would just end and Ron would either tell me he liked me...or that he didn't. Now I'm hanging onto him by a thread, hoping he won't hate me before he gets to know me properly. This is even more confusing than before.

"_How d'you spell 'belligerent'?" Ron asked, interrupting the conversation that I was having with Harry. "It can't be B - U - M -"_

_I might as well get this over and done with._

"_No, it isn't," I said, yanking Ron's essay from underneath his elbow and pulling it towards me. "And 'augury' doesn't begin O - R - G either. What kind of quill are you using?"_

"_It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking ones...but I think the charms must be wearing off..." Ron muttered in response, twiddling the quill in between his index finger and his thumb._

"_Yes, it must," I replied, tapping at the title of his essay, secretly glad I could help him, "because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not 'Dugbogs', and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib, either."_

_Rolling my eyes in amusement, Ron stared at his parchment, half in shock, and half in annoyance. He had just realised he would have to re-write his whole essay, I suppose._

"_Ah, no!" Ron gasped. "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"_

_See, what'd I tell you?_

"_It's okay, we can fix it," I coaxed, being calm enough for the both of us, as I took out my wand and began correcting Ron's essay. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry looking extremely uncomfortable as he read through the Prince's 'book'._

"_I love you, Hermione," Ron mumbled tiredly, as he rubbed his eyes._

_What? Had he really said what I thought he had? Well, it was best not to say anything. Well, especially in front of Harry. Ron was still with Lavender and what's more, this was dangerous territory I was treading on and I didn't want any spectators._

_I could feel – rather than see - that I was blushing. Even if that gave me away, I thought I should play it cool, anyway._

"_Don't let Lavender hear you saying that."_

"_I won't," Ron said. I wasn't quite sure what he was doing as I hadn't yet looked up from his essay. And it was wise not to. "Or maybe I will...then she'll ditch me..."_

_Oh, yes, please! Follow your instinct! Do it, do it!_

"_Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?" Harry enquired._

_Ron, listen to Harry! He knows what is best for you! Do it!_

_I kept my eyes on Ron's essay. I was reading the same sentence over and over again, subconsciously correcting each word or phrase that needed corrected._

"_You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?" Ron questioned. "You and Cho just - "_

_Don't go there, Ron..._

"_Sort of fell apart, yeah," Harry continued._

_Oh. It seemed he had gotten over Cho. I should have known really. The way he had kept staring at Ginny in recent months showed that he definitely had._

"_Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," Ron moaned._

_I began correcting the words on his essay even quicker than before. I hoped that no-one noticed._

"_But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the Giant Squid." Ron ended, banging his head on the table dramatically._

_Twenty minutes later, I'd finished correcting Ron's essay and passed it back to him as kindly as I could muster._

"_There," I said, as he took the parchment out of my hand._

"_Thanks a million," Ron said. "Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?"_

_With a smile that said a thousand words that Ron would never understand, I passed Ron a quill. His quill._


	10. Torpor

**Chapter Nine - Torpor**

"Miss Granger?" I hear a voice call through the haze. "Miss Granger?"

I wriggle in my seat and groan in protest.

"Miss Granger, you'll have to wake up. Everyone has left, and I still have to contact a certain Mr Thomas about a hippogriff and his grandmother's false teeth before students are to be in their common rooms for the night."

I open my eyes slowly.

"Alright there, Miss Granger?" Madam Pince asks me, as I rub my eyes wearily and yawn.

"Just got a few things on my mind, that's all," I reply, beginning to gather my books into a neat pile.

"I can tell." Madam Pince states bluntly, smiling weakly.

"How?"

"Well, you've never fallen asleep in the library, Miss Granger. Never." Madam Pince taps the table I'm working on with her long nails. "Now, come on, it's almost nine o'clock. You've got lessons tomorrow and you need to get some sleep."

"I think I've had enough of that. . ." I mumble under my breath, hoping Madam Pince hasn't heard me.

She appears not to as she continues speaking to me.

"If there is an important or tedious essay you have to complete, then feel free to return in the morning, though, Miss Granger." Madam Pince continues kindly, opening the door of the library for me (my hands are occupied by a mountain of books) as she smiles. "Okay?"

"Sure, Madam Pince." I answer, returning the smile.

As Madam Pince closes the door behind me, I begin walking down the corridor and spot Harry at the end of it chatting to a Ravenclaw.

"Harry!" I attempt to wave at him, forgetting my hands are not free to do so, and the books I am holding tumble out of my possession and land in a messy heap on the floor. I sigh and roll my eyes, before I kneel on the ground and start to pick up the books. I hear footsteps and they grow louder as the amount of books on the floor decrease.

"Hey Hermione," I hear Harry say above me. I raise my head and smile at him. "You didn't visit Ron earlier...are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Harry," I reply, finally collecting the last book and standing up. "Just got a bit sidetracked earlier. Sorry." I yawn again. "Is Ron okay, though?"

"Um, yeah. He wasn't very talkative, but he didn't seem too drowsy or anything, either, so that's a good sign, I suppose." Harry holds out his arms and raises his eyebrows. "Want me to carry any of those books for you? They look really heavy."

They are, indeed, incredibly heavy, but I shake my head, assuring Harry that all the books are as light as a feather, - even if they don't look it.

"We'd better get to the common room, then," Harry says. "Filch will be out patrolling the corridors the moment the clock strikes ten, and I'm sure right now isn't the best time to get a detention. What with Ron and everything. . ."

"Harry, no offence, but I hardly think Ron will notice we're not there. He can't remember what happened last week, let alone that we'd be the kind of people to visit him every day." I interrupt Harry rudely, rolling my eyes as I finish my sentence. We begin to walk down the corridor and towards Gryffindor common room.

"It didn't seem like that this evening, to be honest." Harry comments, chuckling lightly. He grabs one of my books out of my arms, flips it in the air and skilfully catches it as gravity's pull drags it to the ground.

"How do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." Harry says, shaking his head. "We'll go see Ron straight after our last lesson tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okay. I think I have some homework to complete, so maybe I'll have to meet you a little bit later than that."

"Hermione, you aren't trying to avoid seeing Ron, are you? Because you can just say - don't try and dodge the subject. You can tell me anything, you know that." Harry pauses on the spot and I do the same.

"No, that's - that's not it, Harry. I told him I'd go visit him tonight but I forgot to because I had an essay to write for tomorrow. Is that alright?" I snap. "I don't see him for one evening and suddenly I'm trying to avoid him? Why would I do that? He can't remember you either, remember? It isn't like I'm the one on the spot here! Honestly, why does everything have to have a reason behind it? Maybe, just maybe, I was slightly tired and I had piles of homework to complete and decided to go to the library to finish it? Of course that wouldn't be it, would it? That's way too simple!"

Throwing all my library books to the floor in rage, I storm off, leaving Harry standing in the deserted corridor with the books surrounding his feet randomly. Suddenly, I feel absolutely terrible.

-

Why do I act like that? I may get upset and angry sometimes, but there is never an excuse for treating my friends like that. It's hardly ever their fault (unless it's Ron and then, in that case, it always is) so what is the point? I'm wasting my breathe lecturing on about something that I could've prevented happening myself.

"Miss Granger, is there something troubling you?"

If this is another adult or teacher planning to have a long, tedious heart-to-heart with me, then so help me –

"Nick!"

I go to stand up, ready to give Nick a hug, when I realise the obvious - he's a ghost. Sometimes I have these idiotic moments. I just choose to hide them well.

"Miss Granger, I see you've been sitting out here for the best part of an hour. Is there anything wrong?" Nick - Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington to others - asks, floating over to me carelessly.

"No, there's nothing wrong, Nick. I think it's just the stress of the upcoming exams." I lie, biting my lip nervously.

"You've always been a worrier, Miss Granger. It's a habit you must kick someday." Nick begins, grinning at me knowingly. "Live every day like it's your last; don't worry about the small things - it's pointless."

But this isn't just a 'small thing'. Ron can hardly remember me, Harry is starting to get suspicious and I don't see how I'll be able to concentrate on my schoolwork while this is all occurring.

"I know, Nick, but I can't help it."

"Something more than schoolwork and exams are troubling you, Miss Granger. What is it?" Nick scratches the seam in his neck that connects the latter to his head. "I won't tell anyone, Miss Granger. The living are ever so eager to learn the secrets of the dead, but I won't tell a soul."

"A soul?" I giggle.

"I won't tell a soul, Miss Granger. Neither a ghost nor human will know of your troubles." Nick says. "But I always find it best to share things with others - it won't do you any good to keep it all bottled up now, will it?"

My chin trembles.

I want to cry. I want to cry so much that my breathing is caused to halt. I want my stomach to tie itself into a thousand knots in anguish as tears roll down my cheeks. But the problem is, once I've started doing what I have wanted to do for so long, I won't be able to stop.

As I gaze away from Nick, I notice the sun is only just rising. It's almost laughable how beautiful the sunrise looks while I'm on the verge of tears. The weather can't mirror my mood; it decides to mock me instead.

"Ron - he - I can't -" I stumble through my words, trying to find a possible way to explain my situation without giving away my secret. Nick may believe telling them cleanses my soul, but I think otherwise.

"Ah, yes, I've heard of Mr Weasley's unfortunate predicament. I can imagine how hard that must be on you and Mr Potter right now." Nick says sympathetically, clearing knowing what I'm trying to say. "But you can't let that get you down. I hear he hasn't forgotten everything entirely; that's a good sign, surely?"

"S'pose."

Nick wiggles his neck around slightly as I stand up. I've been sitting outside beside the lake for the past hour and my toes are starting to get slightly numb, so I decide to retreat indoors. Even if I have to be in the company of Lavender, I'll be warm at least. On the outside, anyway.

"I should be heading inside. I've got lessons today and I've got - I have something to do. Thank you ever so much, though." I say to Nick, as he nods his head and floats away, leaving me to walk back to Gryffindor Tower by myself.

-

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Obviously if it isn't okay with you, I'll not do it. It's up to you, really."

"No! No, Hermione," Harry shifts in his seat slightly. "I have no problem with you using it. I'm just - you would be breaking a few - and by a few. . .I mean several more than that - school rules doing that, and I want to make sure you're sure."

"Just give me the damn cloak, Harry," I chuckle as he passes me his Invisibility Cloak with ease. "and I'm still sorry about how I treated you yesterday, by the way."

"Hermione, you've already apologised about five thousand times." Harry sighs. "Stop it; it's fine. I command you not to say it again!" Harry waves his wand in my face.

I raise my eyebrows.

"That extra homework is really going to your head, isn't it?"

Harry shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with a smirk on his face.

"Teaches me not to transfigure Malfoy's greasy hair into a lampshade in Charms, then, doesn't it?"

I roll my eyes and, at that, I wrap the invisibility cloak around my body tightly, concealing me. Then I, in the literal sense, disappear into the night.


	11. Me, Myself and I

**Chapter Ten – Me, Myself and I**

The next morning, I shuffle my feet all the way to the Great Hall as slowly as humanly possible, causing many people to stare at me with curiosity. My hair resembles a scarecrow's and I have humongous bags underneath my eyes. To be honest, it actually feels like I have bags hanging under my eyes. They are so heavy; it's unbelievable!

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

The moment I collapse into my seat at the Gryffindor table, I have to raise my head to identify the owner of the voice. Bizarrely, it's Harry.

"Oh, hi, Harry," I say sharply, rubbing my eyes. "Sleep well?"

"A lot better than you, I suspect!"

Harry is right. I hardly got an ounce of sleep and now I'm paying for it with sleep deprivation.

"Yeah, I used the cloak...but I didn't end up needing it. I'll give it back to you later, okay?"

"That's fine, Hermione," Harry replies, grinning slightly. "Why is there now no use for the cloak? C'mon, it does make you invisible, you know."

That may be the case, but it doesn't open locked doors.

"I just don't need it anymore." Harry narrows his eyes. "Harry, seriously, I just - I was going to see him, but... I couldn't get in because the doors wouldn't open, okay?"

Harry relaxes slightly on the bench. "Ah, progress - at least you're telling the truth now."

I decide to ignore Harry's comment and pour some orange juice into the glass beside me. In the reflection of the jug, I spot someone staring at me across the hall. I spin around quickly. It's just Luna. I wave awkwardly in her direction and then swiftly turn back round to face Harry.

"You're getting paranoid." Harry states blankly, raising his eyebrows.

"Says you? You can hardly talk, Harry; you're always paranoid!" I exclaim, chuckling lightly under my breath.

Harry doesn't seem to be offended and says, "I think I have the right to be, Hermione, and besides, if I'm always paranoid, I'm sure I'd notice when someone else was."

Good point.

"He's still in the infirmary, anyway; I checked this morning."

That makes no difference to how furious I am that the doors of said room were locked tightly the night before and I huff exasperatedly.

_I couldn't believe it._

_After everything I had researched in the last couple of weeks, none of it had helped at all. Maybe if I'd read more books, interviewed a few people about what their opinions on it were or stayed up late at night in case I had an epiphany about it...if I had just done something extra that might have helped. But it was just me in this. Alone. I couldn't do all these things on my own. I'd tried my best. But nevertheless, Buckbeak was going to be executed._

_I had to tell Ron and Harry. Even if they hated me to death, they deserved to know._

_After hours of searching for them, I spotted them not far from the security trolls patrolling the corridors. I began to bite my lip nervously as I approached them, but I tried to keep my calm. Harry's face looked like a wet weekend already and Ron looked like he wanted to rip my throat out with his bare hands. It really didn't look like the best time to tell them, but there would be no right time, would there? So as I drew closer to them, I prepared myself as quickly as I could._

"_Come to have a good gloat?" Ron spat at me, as I finally reached them. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"_

_This was going to be much harder than I thought. I gulped quietly._

"_No," My chin began to tremble. "I just thought you ought to know... Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."_

_Ron and Harry stared at me with widened eyes; they resembled a pair of rabbits caught in headlights._

"_He - he sent me this," I held back a sob as I passed them the letter Hagrid had sent me._

_I could hear and remember the letter as freshly as if it had just come from Hagrid's mouth._

_**Dear Hermione,**_

_**We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed.**_

_**Beaky has enjoyed London.**_

_**I won't forget all the help you gave us.**_

_**Hagrid.**_

_However much Hagrid tried to convince me that I'd done brilliantly in trying to help him, I still felt like a failure. A big, bushy-haired, buck-toothed failure._

"_They can't do this" Harry snapped, a hint of desperation in his voice. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."_

_I knew he wasn't, Ron knew he wasn't, Hagrid knew he wasn't. We all agreed with Harry. But, oh yes, they most certainly could do it and they were going to as soon as they possibly could._

"_Malfoy's dad frightened the Committee into it," I said, subconsciously wiping away the tears that were rapidly rolling down my cheeks. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of old fools, and they were scared." I sighed quietly; I hoped Harry or Ron didn't notice. "There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope...nothing will have changed."_

_I tried to remain optimistic throughout my explanation, but Harry and Ron deserved the truth and so that's what they received._

"_Yeah, it will," Ron surprised me by saying, his face full of determination. "You won't have to do all the work along this time, Hermione. I'll help."_

_It was like Ron had read my mind. It was as if he knew how I'd been feeling throughout the whole time he and Harry weren't speaking to me. Yet, deep down, I knew he'd never know how much him saying that meant to me. I could only show him._

"_Oh, Ron!" I cried, tears being to pour down my face as I flung myself at Ron and began sobbing into his chest. Just as I began to take in Ron's deep aromatic smell and notice how tall and broad shouldered he was, I felt his hand lightly tap me on the top of my head. His arm movements showed awkwardness as far as I could tell, but his hands did not. It confused me deeply that he had even touched me at all and that he hadn't pushed me away instantly, but these thoughts brung me back to reality and I pulled away from Ron as quickly as I could as not to raise suspicion._

"_Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers..." I apologised, new tears springing in my eyes as I wiped away the previous ones from my wet, glistening cheeks._

"_Oh - well - he was old," Ron stuttered, crossing his arms as I took a step back from him. The close proximity was too much; it was a mistake to think he'd want to hug me. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."_

_Well, he seemed grateful, at least. And that's all I could hope for. For now._

It's the afternoon before I know it and the end of our last lesson is growing ever so closer. I've come to fear my meetings with Ron as well as yearn for them. Each one brings new fears, new hopes, new possibilities. For some bizarre reason, I'm the one person that Ron confides in and I'm the only one he trusts in telling the truth about his life before the accident. He adores and idolizes Harry evenmore so than he ever did before and his family, even though he has known them his entire life and has many memories with them that exist before he attended Hogwarts, seem more like strangers to him each day. It's painful to watch him grow more distant from his family.

He still talks to them, spends his spare time in the infirmary with them and he still treats them like family - like any son with amnesia would. It's pretty difficult to explain how he now acts around them. I just notice because when it comes to Ron, I'm very observant.

"I told him we'd visit him before dinner," I hear Harry say beside me.

I don't notice to this second that we're in the corridor leading off from Charms and that we're already on our way to our destination. I'm not with it, I can tell. I can't even remember what day it is. Tuesday? Friday? Perhaps a new day has been invented since the last time I climbed out of my mind and actually paid attention to what was going on around me.

"You'd better go in first, Hermione. I'll wait outside; tell me when you're ready for me to come in," Harry smiles kindly at me and opens the infirmary door. How in Merlin's name did we reach here without me realising? It's official; I've gone insane.

With a very dazed look on my face, I presume, I return Harry's smile and without arguing back in protest, I enter the infirmary and close the door behind me.

"Haven't seen you around in a while," Ron says with a smirk on his face. I almost tell him that it feels like I've been away for a century instead of two days, but decide it's best not to. "Wanna sit down? You look a bit pale...are you okay?"

"I'm - I'm fine, thank you." I blush and take a seat beside Ron's bed in a flash.

Ron's eyebrows furrow slightly as he looks at me deeply. "Did you run here?" He asks, shuffling slightly to sit up further in the bed.

"I - uh - no, I didn't" I stutter. "Why'd you ask?"

"You look rather...flustered, that's all." Ron shakes his head. "Don't worry; I'm just being paranoid."

I snort involuntarily.

"What?" Ron barks instantly. It's not a bark of anger; Ron seems fearful, actually.

I'm not about to tell him that I've been feeling exactly the same – whether I like it or not - for the past couple of days and so I settle with muttering, "Nothing," under my breath in response.

"Did you get much sleep last night?"

What is it with Ron and his constant chain of random questions? I shrug my shoulders, but he doesn't leave it there.

"You look really tired. I've been trying to figure out why since you entered the room. First I thought you had just been in a rush to get he -" Ron pauses and his cheeks burn scarlet. "I thought you were in a rush to get out of your last lesson." Ron coughs and then continues. "But since you said you didn't run here, I suppose you weren't."

"I walked here with Harry; no running involved." I grin sheepishly.

"Is Harry outside, then?"

"Yeah, he is." Well, that's our conversation at its end, then.

"Shame," Ron laughs. "He'll be sitting out there for a while..."


	12. Insentient

**Chapter Eleven - **Insentient

I think Harry decided to return back to the Common Room after waiting so long. To be honest, I think even I - the one with a memory - forgot he was outside. I felt a tad horrible when I finally exited the Infirmary hours later and found Harry nowhere to be seen, but did not dwell on it too long.

"Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration has five Principal Exceptions." Professor McGonagall states. "Does anyone know what these five exceptions are?"

I survey the room, for once not lost in my own thoughts. As I look around, I realise no one knows the answer to McGonagall's question. This isn't exactly a surprise, but I'd hoped someone would be in a intellectual mood for once so I wouldn't be expected to answer myself. However, like usual, this doesn't seem to be the case and I raise my hand sharply.

"Miss Granger?"

"Food is one..." I answer. "Which means that food cannot be produced out of thin air."

"Well done, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor."

After McGonagall probes other students for the remaining four Principal Exceptions - failing miserably in her attempts if I may so myself - the lesson is almost over and everyone begins packing their bags and checking what their next lesson is. I have a free lesson, so all I have to do is put my quill carefully into a small pouch located inside my school bag and return my books to the front of the classroom (we have been using the school's resources this particular lesson).

"Off to see lover boy, are we?" I hear a voice sneer beside me as I sit back down in my seat, preparing for the end of Transfiguration. I straighten my back defensively and pretend I do not hear Malfoy's remark.

"Malfoy, shut up," Harry snaps, turning around angrily to begin - what it seems - a full blown argument. "No one wants to hear your whiny, sneering squawk, so why bother opening that big trap of yours?"

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Malfoy replies slyly, walking around his desk and approaching Harry ever so slowly.

"Oh, bravo," Harry says sarcastically. "Like I haven't heard that line before."

"Watch it, Pot -"

Before Malfoy can finish his sentence, the bell rings and everyone is dismissed from the lesson. Bad luck, ferret boy.

I sigh in relief and I rise from my seat and exit the room with Harry, scurrying out as fast as my feet will carry me. There are two reasons for my sudden speedy escape from the lesson: I'm desperate to be out the company of Draco Malfoy and also, not surprising in the least, I'm eager to visit Ron in the Infirmary.

"Great Hall, Hermione..." Harry groans, amazingly unable to keep up with me. I hardly manage to hear what he's mumbling until he repeats himself. "I'm - I'll meet you in the Great Hall, Hermione. See you later."

Alright, if he wants to be unsociable, then that's his choice. Ha, I'm one to talk! I've spent the last few days in the Infirmary with Ron and from what I recall, I haven't actually spoken to Ginny since his accident. Lavender may be a sad excuse for a girl, but I'm, undeniably, a horrid excuse for a best friend.

Within minutes, I've reached the infirmary. I pull a small mirror from my bag and look at my reflection in it. Ew, maybe Malfoy wasn't trying to tease me when he asked me if I was visiting Ron, perhaps he wanted to warn me that I looked atrocious and that I should clean myself up before seeing him! The large bags under my eyes have gotten even worse and it looks like I've been beaten up by a troll - it's horrible. I know why they're there...and that makes it worse. I haven't been sleeping at night. Yes, that's generally the reason why people tend to get bags under their eyes...but I'm sure most people don't climb into bed at the end of the day and stare at the wall opposite them until the sun rises and a new day has begun.

"Hermione Granger?"

I turn around sharply. I'm on edge all the time. That's possibly due from lack of sleep but I just don't know anymore. A small girl with jet black hair is staring up at me, her eyes as wide as saucers, with a note held tightly in her left hand. I must look like some frightening hag - I haven't attempted to control my hair in so long and it probably looks like tumbleweed by now. Poor girl. I've definitely scarred her for life – it's a certainty.

"I - I've been told to give this to you," The very terrified girl whispers nervously. She then seems to stare at me for several seconds before saying, "You've got blood on your hand..."

She runs away before I can reply and I glance down at the hand that she had taken an extreme interest in when she was looking at me. My eyes widen as I discover dry blood covering the palm of my hand. Surely I'd washed that off last time I'd bathed? It can't be anybody else's blood - it's Ron's. I attempt to scrub it off with the sleeve of my robe, but I fail miserably and give up. I manage to cover my hands with the sleeve - with the exception of the tips of my fingers - so the blood is not visible to anyone else.

I tuck the letter the girl gave me into my pocket and I proceed into the Infirmary. However, when I do, I find that Ron is nowhere to be seen. Dean Thomas is sitting cross legged on one of the beds, his right arm in a sling and the male fifth year prefect in Ravenclaw is lying asleep in the bed opposite to Dean, snoring loudly.

"Oh, hey, Hermione!" Dean calls across the room, as he realises I'm standing in the doorway with a bewildered look on my face. "Looking for Ron?"

I nod.

"He got let out this morning." Dean grins and I try a weak smile back. "He said he was going to go to the Common Room and wait for you to finish Transfiguration."

"Right," I say to myself. I give Dean a proper smile and as I run out of the Infirmary, I yell, "Thanks, Dean! Hope your arms heals soon!"

Well, I've not got time to chat.

-

When I arrive in the Gryffindor Common Room, I spot Ron sitting by the fireplace, whistling tunelessly. I intend on quietly walking past him and up to my dormitory so that I can prepare myself and try to improve how I look, but he spots me half way there, his whistling halting immediately.

"Hermione!" Ron bellows, waving his hand to indicate I come over to him. "Just the person I wanted to speak to!"

Can't he want to speak to me when I look a bit more presentable?

I walk over to Ron and sit down beside him. My hands have already gone clammy. This is the same sofa we sat on before Malfoy basically erased Ron's memory.

"Well, what is it?" I ask, trying not to sound too rude. When I'm aware that my bushy hair is in a worse state than usual it makes me crabby.

"Well, nothing, really. Just wanted to speak to you..." Ron says casually, draping his arm over the back of the sofa, close to my shoulder.

"Oh, right," I reply, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot, pulling my sleeve tightly over my hand. "So, are you allowed to go to your lessons now?"

"Unfortunately." Ron groans disappointingly, as he rolls his eyes.

Some things never change.

"That's good." I say seriously, and then noticing the look on Ron's face, I cry, "I mean - oh, how awful!"

"There's no need to be sarcastic." Ron says bluntly, pouting comically to prove that this is no laughing matter.

Which all that does is make me snort happily, hitting Ron's knee playfully in the fight to not snort again. This doesn't quite work - I snort again, as Ron laughs, his lopsided grin dancing across his face, escaping easily. He doesn't snort, but his face turns bright red, making mine do the same in return.

"There's no need to laugh, either," Ron chuckles, gently patting my hand that is still on his knee.

In shock, I pull my hand away briskly and place it on my own knee, still smiling at Ron. His grin fades dramatically and he looks away from me for several seconds, before looking back, his cheeks flushed.

"I - sorry," Ron coughs nervously. I'm not quite sure what he's apologising for, so I remain silent. Which, looking back, wasn't a wise thing to do...

"Ronald!" Sings a voice from behind us, and I turn around sharply to see Lavender there, one hand on her hip, the other twirling a strand of her hair carelessly.

Ron spins round too, spots Lavender, and turns back round again. He now has a scowl imprinted on his face and has folded his arms moodily.

"Go away," Ron says to Lavender, as I raise my eyebrows, half enjoying the spectacle, and half hating the situation I'm involved in.

"Oh, Ronald!" Lavender whines nauseatingly. "There's no need to be like that!"

Lavender runs around to the front of the sofa - the direction Ron and I are sitting in - and plops herself on the other side of him, draping her arm over the sofa in an exact replica of Ron's.

"Go away," Ron repeats, slowly edging his entire body my way. "Are you stupid? Don't you understand what that means?"

"Ronald, you know you don't really want me to go," Lavender replies, tracing her fingers up and down Ron's collarbone as she slides closer to him.

"Yeah, I do, actually." Ron says bluntly, and I clasp my hand around his forearm for some reason unbeknown to me.

It's usually him acting protective towards me. But this time, roles are reversed and I have to do it instead. I don't like it.

"I see you aren't calling him 'Won-Won' anymore, eh, Lav?" I blurt out, my face so contorted, I'd probably be mistaken for a pig.

Lavender glowers at me but doesn't seem ready to surrender.

"Won-Won," Lavender says, adding emphasis. "I'd like to talk to you."

"Alright then."

"Alone." Lavender states, staring at me as if she wished I were burning alive at this current moment.

There a few seconds of silence as Ron glances at me briskly, as if contemplating on what to do. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens his eyes and his eyes meet mine.

"I - I - what do you need to - I can -" Ron stumbles over his words clumsily, as his eyes remain firmly on me. They look from my eyes. . .to my cheeks. . .to my nose. . .and then to my lips. "This really isn't the best time, Lavender. When is the next time I can speak to you?"

"I'm afraid that it is either now or never," Lavender sighs dramatically as she leans against the back of the sofa, slightly further away from Ron than she was before.

Ron inches closer to me as if Lavender is planning on surprising him by jumping on his lap, and I feel my nerves get the better of me.

_**Common Apparition Mistakes and How To Avoid Them**_

_**Finally seventeen? You must be preparing to take your Apparition test! **_

_**The first thing to remember before you take this exciting, but also important test is to be calm. You don't want to get splinched before you even pass, do you? **_

_**Didn't think so.**_

_**Right, so the first step to cooling your nerves is to -**_

_As I scanned the leaflet before the test, Ron jumped behind me nervously with a start. I rolled my eyes, as I looked to my left and saw a girl come round the corner._

"_It isn't Lavender," I said tiredly, as I continued to read the leaflet._

"_Oh, good," said Ron, as he returned back to where he was sitting originally - a lot calmer than before I might add._

_After listening to Ron's reply, I began skimming the leaflet once again, blocking out all the noises around me. I could hear Ron breathing heavily beside me and could see, out of the corner of my eye, that a young girl was talking to Harry. However, as the girl walked away, I heard Harry mention Dumbledore and I peeked at a piece of parchment Harry had clasped in his hand - presumably given to him by the young girl._

_Putting two and two together, I said, "Maybe he wants to check on how you're doing?"_

_In closer inspection of the piece of parchment, I noticed that the handwriting scrawled on the envelope was not that of Dumbledore's, but that of -_

"_Look at this," said Harry, a minute later, after he had finished reading the note he had been sent. He passed it to me briskly as Ron stopped attempting to read his leaflet and rose his head in interest._

_I read the note - which turned out to be from Hagrid - and passed it onto Ron._

"_Oh, for heaven's sake," I said._

"_He's mental!" Ron said angrily beside me. "That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"_

"_It's not just that," I explained, my common sense kicking in. "He's asking us to leave the castle at night, and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught."_

"_We've been down to see him by night before," Harry replied, his obliviousness annoying me into oblivion._

"_Yes, but for something like this?" I asked. "We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all - Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him-"_

"_- I'd want to go even less," Ron interrupted bluntly. "You didn't meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot."_

_Harry looked back down at the note in his hand glumly, clearing thinking about what to do._

"_Harry, you can't be thinking of going," I said. "It's such a pointless thing to get a detention for."_

_Harry sighed._

_Hopefully I'd persuaded him to stay within the castle that evening._


	13. Utopia

**Chapter Twelve **

"I reckon she's doing that to get at me," I hiss under my breath, as I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat in the Common Room, watching Ron and Lavender through the corner of my eye.

"Who?"

Oh, Merlin! It's Neville sitting next to me, not Harry.

"I – uh – Lavender." I roll my eyes. "You know she's always frustrated me," I look to Neville. "Just look at her. She's draping herself across Ron – it's unnecessary, don't you think? Especially since we're in the Common Room."

As I look back to Lavender and Ron, being more apparent about my staring, I hear Neville snort beside me.

"What?"

"Hermione," Neville says, "Are you sure it isn't just because you're jealous?"

"Wha – of course not. Why would you suggest that?" I stammer, my heartbeat quickening ever so steadily.

Before Neville has a chance to answer, both his and my attention is averted back to Lavender and Ron, who are now considerably closer to each other than they were before.

"It's obvious..." Neville manages to mumble under his breath, as we both continue to watch the every movement of Ron and Lavender.

Neville shuffles further up the sofa we're sitting on so he's closer to me and whispers, "Y'know, I bet she'll bat those eyelids of hers next."

Neville and I turn around and make it plainly evident what and whom we're looking at; it's not like either Ron or Lavender will realise – it's like they're in a bubble, oblivious to what is going on around them.

Neville's prediction is correct and seconds after he states that Lavender will bat her eyes, she does.

"Five points to Gryffindor?" Neville jokes, exchanging a look with me that says "I'd make that ten!"

Eventually, Lavender stops with her outrageous body language, instead settling for edging closer to Ron, travelling from flirtatious to intimate behaviour in a few short moments.

I look to Neville. "Do you think I should intervene then?"

"Just wait..."

Although feeling rather impatient, I decide to take Neville's advice and continue watching Ron and Lavender, aware that I'd much prefer to storm over there and cause havoc than sit ten to twenty feet away from them, letting things happen that I'd rather didn't.

"How about now?" I tease, assuming that Neville's answer will be the same.

"If you don't go over there now, you've lost your chance," Neville turns to look at me. "Go!"

I freeze, not sure whether Neville is joking or not and glance from him to Ron and Lavender.

"Hermione, quickly! In several seconds, she could be all over him."

As the words exit his mouth, I fly from the sofa and then, realising it'll look slightly suspicious if I sprint over, I begin to walk to Ron and Lavender as nonchalant as possible.

Needless to say, Lavender spots me first and rolls her eyes, looking as aggressive as ever. Ron becomes aware of Lavender's sudden disinterest in their conversation and turns around and sees me – which isn't the hardest of things to do, because by this time, I'm standing directly behind him.

"Hermione?"

"Can we talk, please?" Lavender opens her mouth to say something, but I don't give her the chance to insult me (which is, I assure myself, what she was about to do). "Alone."

Lavender sniffs and walks away in a sulk, mumbling as she does so; I manage to catch the words "bushy hair" and "Patil" as she walks off, so I imagine she's gone to relay what just occurred to Parvati.

"Thanks, Hermione..." Ron trails off, his face slowly turning scarlet.

I tell Ron that it's no problem and I perch on the windowsill behind us. Ron follows suit.

"D'you want to know what Lavender was saying to me?" He asks, ruffling his hair with a trembling hand.

"Why would I want to know?" I retort, ignoring the fact that Ron's hair ruffling sends my heart sky-rocketing.

Ron does not reply, so I risk looking up at him – as I had been looking down at the floor until then – and find he's staring right back. He goes ahead with revealing what Lavender said nonetheless, so I'm forced to listen whether I like it or not.

"Last time – the time I was in the infirmary – she said something about it being my "last chance" with her... but now she's saying she's changed her mind." Ron looks away. "She said she loves me and said it must have been a mistake that we ever broke up..." Ron stares at me again, a forlorn look on his face. "Was I actually with her before the accident?"

I look to the floor once more, tears threatening to roll down my cheeks.

"I can't do this, Ron."

"You can't do what?" Ron questions, edging closer to me. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh no, you've done nothing," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm, as a tear drops onto my lap.

"No, Hermione," Ron replies, bending down to where my face is now directed, his eyes scanning my every action. "I've done something. You look miserable." I raise my eyebrows as I look to my left, where Ron's face is, his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm serious. What have I done?"

"You - you haven't done anything, Ron," I answer, shaking my head defiantly. "It's me. It's my fault, honestly."

"What is your fault? I don't understand." Ron says, looking confused, but somewhat determined. "Look, if I've done something, tell me, and I can set it straight."

"Why do you want to work everything out, Ron? You hardly know me - you don't know what we've been through! You hardly know anyone that looks at you anymore! We were sitting in the Great Hall this morning; five people said hello to you as they passed on their way out of the room, and the look on your face…you had no clue who they were!" More tears roll down my face. "So how can you tell me you want to sort things out when you don't have any idea how we were before?" I avert my eyes to the ceiling to avoid Ron's gaze as my eyes continue to leak.

"I just - try and let me help -"

"Ron, you can't help. Just - just leave me alone." I wipe away a tear that's begun to dry on my lip and walk away from Ron briskly.

As I reach the stone steps heading up to the girl's dormitory, I pause.

"Before the accident," I begin, stepping one foot onto the first step of the stairs, "you went out with Lavender." I face Ron. "Fortunately, you split up with her over six months ago."

"What?" I hear Ron ask behind me.

"You - you went out with Lavender." I explain slowly. "She probably thinks because of the memory loss, you'll not remember the split and will be eager to get back with her. She's never been keen on me, but especially not now since I seem to be getting in the way of you two having a relationship." I pause to breathe. "I reckon she kno – thinks that I'm in love with you or…something like that."

"Do you?"

My heart falters.

"Do – do I what?" I stammer.

"Do you love me?"

I remove my foot from the first step and place it back on the ground. "Love is a strong word, Ron..."

Ron makes his way towards me, stopping when he's standing right in front of me. He gazes into my eyes for what seems like hours and he doesn't makes any effort to move at all until he, ever so suddenly, kisses me on the forehead.

Any heartbeats I was scheduled to have disappear for at least several minutes – or so it seems – and I stare up at him, where I notice his lop-sided grin has appeared to greet me. "It may be a strong word, Hermione, but I think I'm beginning to understand its definition."

Then he's gone. Poof.

If I hadn't read _Hogwarts, A History_ so many times, I would have been absolutely certain he'd apparated.

-

The next day we have Potions first - which I imagine will be a disaster before we even arrive in the Dungeons. Harry looks equally as nervous as I'm sure I do myself. Ron, on the other hand, is as calm as ever, seeing as he's completely oblivious to the Malfoy fiasco that occurred only a week previously.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Ron halts on the spot, his cool composure disappearing before my very eyes. I peer down at Ron's hand and he's clenching his fists.

I look to Ron's face and follow what his eyes are staring at.

"Oh," Harry interrupts, standing in front of Ron to prevent him from staring so intently any longer. "Malfoy? He's in Slytherin –"

"I know who he is!" Ron yells at Harry. "But what is he doing here? His family are –"

"We know what his family are, Ron," Harry butts in angrily. "We know what they are like and what they are willing to do." Harry turns around, where he sees Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle still lingering outside the door to Potions. "But this is neither the time nor the place...and we don't want you getting in anymore harm than you have already, okay?"

With a disgruntled look on his face, Ron walks around Harry,walks down the remainder of the hallway to Potions – ignoring Malfoy and his "cronies" despite one sneaky sidewards glance – and enters the classroom swiftly. Once we're in the classroom ourselves, Harry and I notice that he's decided to sit the furthest away from anyone as he possibly can and we think it best to sit in our regular seats and leave him alone.

"I think you should have a talk with him," I whisper to Harry, being careful not be caught by Professor Snape. "We've neglected to tell him certain things and..." Professor Snape looks at me pointedly as he begins to talk about the Draught of Peace. "...sooner or later, it's going to get him into trouble."

"Are you quite finished, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape enquires. Indeed being finished with my conversation with Harry, I nod my head curtly and allow Professor Snape to continue, despite how much I despise him. "Perhaps, Miss Granger, you would be in need of a slip-up Draught of Peace potion? Irreversible sleep would be an utter blessing."

I do not let my anger get the best of me, but unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Ron. I'm unable to quieten him at all.

"Leave her alone!"

"Excuse me?" Professor Snape says, looking extremely aggravated. "Mr Weasley, I'm aware that as a result of your memory loss I've regrettably got to let certain things fly, but surely, now that you're six year friendship with Miss Granger has gone, you do not feel obligated to defend her?"

"Professor, just because I'm not able to remember any of my memories does not mean I'm a different person from who I was before!" Ron stands up from his chair abruptly, causing the latter to topple over. "How could you possibly know how it feels to know that there is something missing, yet whatever it is so far away and undeniably out of reach?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley," Professor Snape barks, his pale face turning a faded pink. "Now sit down or I'll consider taking another twenty."

Ron sits back down immediately, as Malfoy begins cackling in his seat, apparently unable to keep his laughter in any longer.

In an attempt to change the atmosphere – although appreciating the fact that Professor Snape dislikes me exretemly, I say, "Errors in the Draught of Peace can cause heavy and sometimes, irreversible sleep. Is that correct, Professor Snape?"

Knowing full well I'm correct, Professor Snape lips thin – almost as if he is fighting off a smile – and he nods tersely in my direction.

"I would like you all to collect the ingredients for the Draught of Peace now," He states to the class, acting as if what had just occurred had not happened at all. "The potion should be a silver vapour this time in ten minutes."

He's acting strange. I'm keeping an eye on Snape.

-

We exit our Potions classroom an hour later, Gryffindor ten points down and all three of us with a detention. Seems Snape was only being strange to the point that he was nice enough to let us know we were being given a punishment when the rest of the class had gone.

Bizarrely eager to be away from the Dungeons, Harry storms ahead of Ron and I and has departed before either of us are halfway down the corridor.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," Ron mutters besides me. "I know I most likely embarrassed you in there, but I couldn't stand Snape insulting you like that."

"I'm used to it. Don't worry."

"Well, you shouldn't be used to it. It won't happen again." Ron stands still. "Hermione?"

"What?"

Shortly after Ron stops, so do I and I return back to the spot where he's standing.

"Can I tell you something?" I nod. "Oh. Well, I - I think a memory might have come back."


	14. Fratenizing With The Enemy

**Chapter Thirteen**

"_I just don't see what your problem is," I stated angrily, my fists clenching tightly. _

_"Victor -" "Victor this, Victor that - could you quit talking about him for just one second?" Ron barked, taking a step closer to me (as if I couldn't hear him clearly enough before, honestly!). "This has got nothing to do with Victor, so I wish you'd stop bringing him up." _

_I wasn't quite convinced. _

_"Are you sure that he's not part of the problem, Ron?" _

_Ron slumped down in the armchair beside him and sighed. "I've got nothing against Krum, Hermione," Ron looked up at me, his face scarlet and his eyebrows furrowed. "Sure, he's a pompous prat who doesn't truly -" _

_"Ron!" I shrieked, massaging my temples in an attempt to rid myself of the thumping headache that was currently afflicting me, before snapping my head back to Ron angrily. "I think you'll find you're acting rather like a pompous prat yourself - I'd pick my words more carefully next time." A smirk danced across my face. "You wouldn't want to include 'hypocrite' to the list, would you?" _

_Ron shot up from his seat instantly and marched out of the Common Room and up to the boy's dormitories. I didn't see him for another twenty minutes, and all the while I sat in front of the fireplace in the Common Room, watching the flames lick around the wood. _

_How I wished that Ron had invited me to the Ball long before Victor had. Victor was so kind and had grown to care for me deeply, but somehow - however grateful for that affection I was - it paled in significance to the affection I longed Ron to express towards me. Though that was just wishful thinking on my part - the day Ron showed me any sort of affection would be the day he realised the importance of house elves' welfare._

_I was instantly aware of Ron's presence after the twenty minute gap, as I heard him storm back into the Common Room and, with a great amount of force, sat on the arm of the sofa I was sitting on. _

_"Have you calmed down now?" I asked. _

_He shook his head and mumbled, "I don't see why you can't see Krum's ulterior motives, Hermione," A long pause soon followed. "It's blatant that he's only making a move on you because you're best friends with his competition." Ron looks me directly in the eyes. "Harry." _

_Furious to say the least, I jumped from my seat indignantly and strode over to the other side of the room, as Ron stood up from where he had been perched and turned in my direction, his face once again a dark shade of red. _

_I'd not said a word and he was already irritated. Good. _

_"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" I cried, feeling the 'Sleekeazy's Hair Potion' charm beginning to return my hair back to it's natural state, a few curls flying in front of my face as I shouted at Ron. _

_"Oh yeah?" Ron retorted exasperatedly. "What's that?" _

_He knew well what! _

_"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" _

_I didn't have a chance to witness Ron's reaction. Before I could, I spotted Harry to our left and to prevent myself from any more humiliation, I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could, only letting tears flow down my face the moment I reached the girls' dormitory. However, as I did so, I managed to hear Ron splutter, "Well - well, that just proves - completely missed the point -" I didn't miss the point, Ron. My aim was perfect. _

-

After arriving back in the Common Room after Potions, both Ron and I are reunited with Harry and they decide to go off to the Quidditch Pitch for the afternoon as we have no other lessons the rest of the day.

"Oh, looking good, Frizz," I hear a voice snarl the moment I'm given some well-deserved peace.

For God's sake, I was just about to begin reading _Hogwarts, A History _; I'd rather not be interrupted. My head whips up. Great, it's Lavender.

"What d'you want?" I retort, my words dripping with hatred. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm in the middle of doing something."

"I wasn't dropped on the head as a baby, you know," Lavender answers, sitting on the table I'm reading at. "And I'm not blind either."

"I'm sure you're not, Lavender." Sensing that I'm mocking her (or so I hope), Lavender falls silent. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to read this book without any interruptions." I smile at her.

Lavender snorts. "Yeah, well, sometimes you've got to put up with the interruptions to get what you want."

I don't understand what she means, but realise it can't be anything good the moment she winks at me and promptly leaves.

I decide not to ponder on it too much, and return to reading my book, free of any disruptions until -

"Guess who!" Somebody plasters their hands over my eyes, making it impossible to actually see who's blinding me.

I'd know that voice anywhere, though. Did he really think he could trick me with that one? I highly doubt it…and the thought of him doing it on purpose causes me to blush furiously. I'm glad that by him covering my eyes it prevents him from seeing my face.

"I have absolutely no idea," I reply, masking the giddiness I feel with sarcasm. "I give up."

The hands remove themselves from my face and spin me around one hundred and eighty degrees. Ron stands before me, a lop-sided grin appearing on his face the moment our eyes meet.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Ron suggests, his arms falling back to his sides.

"What happened to spending the whole day on the Quidditch Pitch?" I question, throwing on my coat as I do so.

"Turns out," Ron explains. "I'm actually quite rubbish at the whole 'Quidditch' thing."

My eyebrows shoot up - my attempt at feigning surprise. It comes as no shock that Ron isn't brilliant at Quidditch once again. He did only just improve his skills in it last year! However, Ron doesn't seem too bothered and rummages through the bag I have located beside me, finds a hat I had stored in there and pulls it onto my head. I expect to leave with Ron swiftly after that, but instead, he stands there, staring at me…affectionately.

"Ron, I can't -" Suddenly, I'm cut off as Ron rises to his feet swiftly, cups his hands on my face and presses his lips against mine firmly.

Bizarelly, no one seems to notice.

Despite that strange fact, I'd love for this to continue, but - but this isn't Ron. Not really. If I think about it long enough (which isn't a brilliant idea when you are being kissed by someone), the only thing that is familiar about Ron since he lost his memory, is the way he acts when he gets nervous. That hasn't changed one bit...and - and I've just realised why.

I pull away from Ron as quickly as I can, pushing him away with my hands on his chest.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

My hands don't move.

"Hermione…there's no reasoning behind this. I know that I've no idea what our relationship was like before I had the accident, but I…" Ron trails off, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "It doesn't matter. I'm just sorry, alright?"

"There's no need to be sorry," I sigh - and I'm telling the truth.

The only thing that ruins the moment, is the fact that it isn't Ron. _My _Ron. The Ron that has shared countless memories with me. The Ron that held me in his arms last year at Dumbledore's funeral. The Ron that worried I was going to tire myself out by having so many lessons in third year - even if he didn't know the full story, he still cared enough to say something.

This was our first kiss. It is our first kiss and all I feel is regret and anxiety. Along with a little happiness, of course, but that's almost been cancelled out by everything else.

"Well, I'm sorry, anyway…" Ron mumbles nervously, his voice cracking. "Must have misunderstood…"

"Misunderstood what?"

"Misunderstood that you - that you and I -"

"Ron!" The voice from cries like a banshee, echoing around the room, deafening me in an instant. Ron turns around, his eyes widening with fear as he does so, before he rolls them at the sight of Lavender.

"What do you want?" Ron asks gruffly, as I sit down on the chair I had previously been sitting on, the air escaping from my lungs in one smooth movement. It feels as if the air doesn't return.


End file.
